


RK1700 Week Prompt-Fills

by Momma_Time



Series: Detroit: Become Fannon [15]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Ballroom Dancing, Blood, Christmas, Death, Demons, Dragon Age AU, Dragon Age Inquisition AU, Fluff, M/M, Mafia AU, Magic, Multiverse, Murder, Pirate AU, RK1700 Week, Role Reversal, amanda can go choke tbh, deviant leader rk900, gala - Freeform, inquisitor connor, no beta we die like men, prompt fills, so much damn fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-21 07:11:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16572023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momma_Time/pseuds/Momma_Time
Summary: Super creative title, I know.If you're looking for the stuff that I relate to the Soft Nines series, you'll find it in the following chapter(s): 2, 6, and kind of 7.





	1. Day 1: Mafia Au

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting these early because idk what my schedule is going to be like next week. lol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two heirs, one must die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idek fam  
> There's multiple, not explicit descriptions of murder. Sort of?  
> Warnings for brief mentions of blood and things.

Nines woke up in a strange bed, the light streaming through the windows and shining in his face. He had to lay there a while and cast his memory back to the night before to piece together what happened.  
  
This was unusual for him; Nines had an impeccable memory with a quick recall, and to struggle to piece everything together immediately was frustrating. There was a shift beside him, and Nines slowly turned his head to cast a sleepy gaze on the soft lump beside him. Ah. That's why the place was unfamiliar.  
  
His target lay beside him, snuggled into Nines' side and face pressed into Nines' shoulder. Right. The mission.  
  
It would be so easy to kill him here and now. Twist and break his neck to make it quick and painless? Choke him or smother him with a pillow? Slit his throat? How many ways he could kill his target with the items of the man's bedroom or with Nines' own hands. Could even poison his breakfast if he decided to let the guy have one more nice moment before his end.  


* * *

  
_Connor Anderson, heir to the Anderson family "business" and fortune. The man, despite his upbringing, was a delight in the eyes of the media and it got his family out of trouble when he did anything that seemed charitable. The people ate it up. No one could prove that his father and his associates did anything wrong, yet, but having Connor's natural kindness and mercy and the appearance of someone who was far too innocent for his years made up for anyone else's shortcomings._  
  
_Which is why he had to die._  
  
_No number of kind acts and no matter how pure his heart **seemed**  to be, he had to die to remove one of the Anderson family's shields._  
  
_Nines had taken one look at the photo his mother had given him and wondered if the woman was crazy. How could anyone like this ray of sunshine be a threat to the Stern family's interests?_  
  
_He had raised an eyebrow and shot his mother a dubious look. Really? This guy?_  
  
_Amanda gave him a "don't question it, do it" look in return, which was the end of it for the conversation._  
  
_Nines looked back down at the file in his hands and read through it to get an idea of what kind of background his target had. What did he like? What places did he frequent? What did he major in in college? Who did he hang out with?_  
  
_The easiest route would be just to snipe him from a distance, but with how his mother had approached it, and with how the man was from a rival family, perhaps he should make it more personal. Hank Anderson had already lost one son, Connor's older brother Cole, but losing the remaining son? It would destroy him, which would make it easy to force the family to yield._  
  
_Connor helped a young man named Markus with painting classes at the community center for a mental health recovery group every other Saturday. Connor was sometimes the muscle for carrying the supplies around, and he moved around the room to help anyone who asked for it, though he seemed to let Markus do most of that. Unless they were crafting something that day. Then, Connor took the lead. He was good with his hands and creating model cars, or woodworking or bowls came naturally to him. Connor and Markus complimented one another that way._  
  
_He donated large sums of money to a food pantry and into a grant for a group of researchers who were developing a better way to farm within a city. So, a philanthropist, except Connor actually went to these places to help or check-in on how things were going. He was genuinely interested in helping the less fortunate and curious about the research; Connor could keep up with most of the scientists and developers when they discussed their work._  
  
_The guy also donated to afterschool programs for the more impoverished school districts._  
  
_And he loved dogs; he pushed for adoption from animal shelters._  
  
_Why in the hell was this guy a threat besides being who he was to Anderson? He was all sunshine and rainbows, and Nines didn't see how someone who was to lead a family in the future could do so **and**  be this nice._  
  
_There had to be something wrong, something that Connor was doing or liked that made him just as much of a low-life as the rest of them._  
  
_Nines flipped a page to what his mom listed as Connor's "weaknesses and shortcomings" and found only that Connor owed thirty-seven cents to the local library for an overdue book. No speeding tickets, no record from when he was in school, no criminal activity of any kind. The only fault that could be found in him was that Connor was an heir and remained silent on his father's work._  
  
_Did he even know what Hank was up to?_  
  
_How was Hank grooming Connor to lead if Connor was like this?_  
  
_No. There had to be something that the Anderson family scrubbed from Connor's records. Anything._  
  
_Nines glanced at Connor's pictures, set off to the side on the table so he could focus on the file. There were print-offs of Instagram photos with Markus or his dog, Sumo. Photos someone in Nines' family's employ who snapped pictures of Connor without the man knowing anything about it. In all of them, Connor looked relaxed and at peace with himself and the world. If he wasn't smiling outright, it was there in his eyes. His clothes didn't reflect his status. Simple jeans that fit him like a glove and long-sleeved button downs that he rolled up to his arms. Sometimes there was flannel. No suits, no tuxedos, no snobbish brands like what Nines usually sported._  
  
_He didn't get it._  
  
_But, it was his job, and Connor was his target, and Nines never failed._  


* * *

  
_Nines dressed carefully that weekend, planning to visit a club Connor was supposed to attend that evening for a friend's birthday. Jeans, boots, a white t-shirt, and a faded brown jacket. Simple, comfortable, and not his usual business attire. He mussed his hair, not doing anything with it when he got out of the shower; it was driving him nuts to look so unkempt._  
  
_After grabbing his wallet and making sure he had something on him for a fight, Nines left the house and hopped on his motorcycle. This was going to be a long night and an even longer mission._  
  
_He was dreading every second of it._  
  
_Not because he didn't want to kill the target. He did. But who could kill the literal embodiment of the desire for world peace and feel good about it?_  
  
_**Mother said to get it done. We don't question her decisions because she knows the game better than we do. He's a target, nothing more, nothing less.**_  
  
_The bike roared to life and Nines took off. The sooner, the better._  


* * *

  
_Nines was never a fan of clubs. They were loud, noisy, had too many bodies belonging to horny people, and the smell was dizzying. The scent of perfumes and colognes, spilled drinks, body odor, and who knows what else. Nines didn't want to think about it._  
  
_He slipped inside with barely a nod at the bouncers. They didn't think twice about letting Nicholas Stern inside without searching or waiting like everyone else._  
  
_The sensory input hit him like a cold gust in the dead of winter, forcing him to stop a moment to adjust to the chaos. Nines closed his eyes a moment and took a slow breath before he wandered further inside. Time to locate his target._  
  
_He ignored the people who tried to approach him for a dance without a care. Nines was here to work, not find a one night fling._  
  
_Nines found his target at the bar, surrounded by a few people vying for his attention. Can I buy you a drink? Want to dance? Can I take you home with me? And whatever stupid questions they tried to get the target to agree to._  
  
_For his part, the target looked uncomfortable. His smile was strained, and he had his gaze firmly on the glass of some blue drink in his hand. With the other, he was stirring the straw restlessly. The target laughed nervously at one person's shitty joke, and his foot began to bounce on the chair he was perched in._  
  
_Getting the "Hero of the Day" award by rescuing the guy from the situation would be a good start. If the target wondered how Nines knew his name, he could say that he recognized him from his Insta._  
  
_With all of the confidence of a king, Nines sauntered to the bar, smiling easily when he made it to stand in front of his prey._  
  
_"Connor! There ya are." Nines huffed a laugh. "Who'd've thought that you'd be early for once. The others are waiting, ya ready?"_  
  
_The target's head jerked up to the sound of his name, and Nines could see the relief wash over him at the rescue. "Y-yeah. Sorry if I kept you guys waiting. I didn't know you were here yet."_  
  
_He stood quickly and excused himself to join Nines, who shot the admirers a murderous look until he had to hide it so the target wouldn't see it. The smile he flashed the target was soft and playful, and Nines reached up to ruffle the target's hair._  
  
_With that, the pair walked off._  
  
_The target relaxed as soon as they were out of sight of the crowd and flashed Nines a grateful smile. "Thanks. They were--"_  
  
_"Gettin' to ya? Yeah, you looked miserable. Couldn't leave ya like that." Ugh. He hated talking this way. It was annoying and tedious. Why had he settled on this speech pattern? It was unnecessary. It wasn't like his target would recognize him by his voice. They'd never met before._  
  
_"Even so, I appreciate it...?"_  
  
_"Oh! Uh, you can call me Nines, if ya want."_  
  
_The target beamed at him. "I like it. It's a pleasure to meet you, Nines. How did you know my name? We've never spoken before."_  
  
_"I recognized ya from your Insta profile. You're pretty popular there. The photo of you with the ice cream seems to be the most well-liked, though I can't figure why." Yes, he could. Seeing a handsome guy, whose profile usually included puppies or art projects or the like, licking ice cream from his hand with his fingers still wrapped around the cone wasn't precisely a repellant for the interested._  
  
_The target laughed slightly and glanced at his feet. They'd found a wall to lean against that was out of the way of the majority of the crowd to talk. "Well, there's probably one good reason why, but I doubt it's actually "good" in any sense of the word."_  
  
_Nines shrugged, "To each their own, though."_  
  
_"You said before that our friends were waiting?" he asked suddenly._  
  
_"I figured it'd be better to say that than to assume you'd said that you were single and I claim to be your boyfriend. The boyfriend line woulda been too risky to use that as a lie."_  
  
_The target hummed and took a sip of his drink, eyes scanning the crowd of dancing people. "Well, I am actually here to meet with some friends for a birthday, and you're welcome to join us if you're by yourself tonight." He paused before his eyes widened and he quickly amended the offer. "If you're not here looking for a hook-up, that is. I mean, I know that's why most people are here but, uh, if you get bored or something, we wouldn't mind one more."_  
  
_What a dork, Nines thought in amusement._  
  
_"I'd like that. A group of friends is usually preferable to a quick lay, you know?"_  
  
_"Ha, yeah. People can be...a hassle sometimes."_  
  
_"You say that like ya know it first hand," Nines teased._  
  
_The man rolled his eyes dramatically with an over-the-top groan. "You have no idea, Nines. Sheesh, people...Well, most people. Shit. I hope I didn't offend you. I'm complaining about people with a person right next to me, and I didn't think about that. I'm so sorry."_  
  
_The rush of words was hard to keep up with, and Nines blinked at his target slowly a moment to let it all sink in. Then, he laughed. The guy thought he was rude to Nines, the guy who was going to kill him soon. If only he knew, maybe he'd be colder to Nines or try to kill him first. Nines knew Connor could defend himself. Hank saw to that._  
  
_"Y-you're fine, kid. Don't worry about it. I understand completely." Nines waved it off with a grin and then decided to be merciful and redirect the conversation again by pointing at the drink. "What is that? I haven't seen a drink like that before."_  
  
_The man frowned at his glass a second until it sunk in that Nines was asking for the name like he wanted to get it sometime. "Oh! My friend North came up with the mix. She calls it Thirium. It's not as fruity as I normally like my drinks, but it's still pretty damn good."_  
  
_"May I?" His target nodded and held it out, but rather than take it, Nines leaned over and sipped straight out of the straw, maintaining eye contact through it to throw the man off. Was it wrong of him to find the ensuing blush amusing? It didn't take much to embarrass the target, it seemed._  
  
_It was sweet, but not overly fruity. Shit, it would be easy to drink too many of those._  
  
_"It's not half bad," he commented, pulling away. Still flustered, Connor dropped the glass when he withdrew, and Nines had to dart down to catch it. Some of it still spilled, but at least there wasn't any broken glass. "You okay?"_  
  
_"Um, y-yeah. Sorry."_  
  
_"Don't apologize to me. Talk to the glass. They're the one you almost murdered here." That drew a laugh out of the man, helping him relax a little before he retrieved his drink from Nines' hold._  
  
_"Rude."_  
  
_"Says the near murderer."_  
  
_His target opened his mouth to continue the petty argument, but a woman called his name over the noise._  
  
_"Connor! About damn time I find your goofy ass." The woman, North, Nines remembered, came right up to her friend and swiped his drink from him to finish it off herself. She glanced at Nines and gave him a once over, one brow raised. "Damn. No wonder you didn't find us sooner. You found yourself a tall drink of water here."_  
  
_"No, I didn't!" the target_ sputtered _. If the lights weren't flashing in their part of the club at the moment, Nines was sure that he was blushing again. "He just...helped me."_  
  
_"I bet he did," North mumbled, continuing to stare at Nines. She blinked, and the staredown was over as she turned her attention to Connor. "Bring your hot piece of ass with you if you have to, but hurry up. Simon isn't getting any younger...or less tipsy."_  
  
_The target snickered and took the glass back to set on a nearby table. "Fine. Fine. We're coming."_  
  
_Nines found himself being dragged along behind the guy to celebrate "Simon's" birthday. Well, if it got him closer._  


* * *

  
_The target danced exactly like Nines would have imagined up until he met him. Once Nines had seen how awkward he could be, he figured that the guy wouldn't be one for dancing._  
  
_He was very wrong and learned that the moment he was dragged into the multitude of people to dance with his prey._  
  
_The guy moved like he didn't have a single bone in his body, movements fluid and graceful, but still an alluring motion to whoever he partnered with. He swayed and twisted a little, hands reaching up to rest on Nines' chest as he lowered himself and then slid back up to level his gaze with Nines. Nines didn't know if it was the alcohol that him brazenly coming on to Nines like this, that bold on his own, or if he was merely having that much fun._  
  
_But he danced without a care in the world, a freedom that Nines hadn't seen in other heirs. How could he be this...almost shameless?_  
  
_Even still, Nines had a role to play, and he raised his hands to rest on his target's hips, drawing him closer so that they could move together. The man's hands slid up to Nines' shoulders and then moved to wrap around behind Nines' neck to pull his head down so that they could press their foreheads together, could breathe together._  
  
_It was far too intimate to be comfortable. The target was utterly oblivious to Nines' discomfort, which is how Nines wanted it. Letting the man know he wanted space between them could harm his chances of getting closer._  
  
_Fucking hell._  
  
_Instead, Nines used their proximity to draw him in for a kiss. One that the target approached with the same enthusiasm and shamelessness as he did with dancing. It was startling at first, to have him dive right in like that, but Nines let him enjoy it. Hey, better to let the guy enjoy what was left of his life while he could._  
  
_But why did he have to make it so fucking **filthy**? The mouth on this guy was...something else._  
  
_Nines found himself enjoying it, enjoying the feeling of someone not being so damn timid when kissing him. He knew he looked a little terrifying. Pale eyes, pale skin, dark hair, and a resting bitch face that could freeze a man in his tracks. Nines used it to his advantage most of the time._  
  
_But it certainly made it difficult to find partners who weren't intimidated enough to shy away from him like this._  
  
_His hands slid from the target's hips and back to grab his ass, tugging them flush against one another. Nines went to—_  
  
_"If you two are done being horny teenagers..."_  
  
_They jerked apart to find Markus standing there with an amused smirk on his face. He seemed taller in person, Nines noted._  
  
_Despite the sudden distance, Nines didn't let go of Connor's ass, and smirking right back at Markus', squeezed and enjoying the surprised squawk from his dance partner. Markus' actually laughed at his friend's indignant swat to Nines' arm in retaliation._  
  
_"Anyway, I came over to tell you that North, Simon and I are heading home. Josh is waiting for us, and well, we have a surprise for Simon." Nines didn't want to know._  
  
_"That's fine, Markus. Thanks for telling me."_  
  
_"No problem. You two have fun." He turned to navigate his way through the crowd but paused to throw a grin over his shoulder at them. "Connor, remember to wear protection and don't forget that I put clean boxers in the glove compartment of your car in case you need them."_  
  
_"Fuck off, Markus!" he shouted, looking everywhere but at Markus and Nines._  
  
_Cute._  
  
_"And Nines_ , _hurt a hair on his head and we will have more than just words."_  
  
_"Thank you for the warning. I'll be more than careful." He paused and then smirked at the brunet still in his arms after shooting Markus a wink. "I'll take my time so he'll be right as rain by morning."_  
  
_"Get a room."_  
  
_"Workin' on it," he fired back. Markus was grinning, so Nines was doing something right._  


* * *

  
_Nines drove the target home, but he only stayed long enough to make sure the man got inside alright. Once his prey was home—he wasn't happy about Nines not staying or taking him home with him, but the guy was tipsy, and it wouldn't go over well, in Nines' opinion—Nines headed back himself._  


* * *

  
_"Well?"_  
  
_Nines didn't look up from his tea when he replied, "Well, what?"_  
  
_"How's your progress on the mission?"_  
  
_"Good so far. We have a date tomorrow at noon for lunch. I plan to give it a few weeks before I kill him." He removed the teabag from the cup and set it to the side, still not meeting Amanda's gaze. "I want to make it hurt a bit when I betray him. It'll be a harsher blow to him, his father, and his friends if he dies at the hands of a lover. The look in his eyes when I kill him will be something I wish you were able to witness, mother."_  
  
_Amanda said nothing for a time, drinking her own tea as she stared out the window and into the gardens. She loved those gardens more than she loved her own son, Nines had observed over the years. No matter how useful he was, or how much effort was put into grooming him, there was no love or affection between them, never any approval. Everything, even when he was a child, was strictly business._  
  
_Maybe that's why he was uncomfortable with the mission._  
  
_Nines wasn't used to people liking him, let alone wanting to spend more than one overnight romp with him. And yet Anderson had given him the puppy eyes when he'd asked for Nines' number, and he wasn't doing it because he was scared of Nines but because he genuinely liked him for some damn reason. It was beyond him as to what he saw in Nines._  
  
_"Just get it done. I don't care how. Make it clean, no witnesses, and no evidence."_  
  
_"Obviously," Nines mumbled dryly._  
  
_Amanda shot him a look, one that did nothing to Nines. He had stopped caring long ago._  


* * *

  
The body next to him stirred and Nines watched as brown eyes slowly opened, only to snap shut against the light. Nines couldn't blame him. As Connor gradually woke, he moved more, adjusting so he could wrap an arm AND a leg around Nines as if Nines were Connor's personal body pillow.  
  
Nines felt a rush of fondness for Connor, and he shifted enough to press a gentle kiss against Connor's temple.  
  
"Morning, Nines."  
  
"Mornin' darling."  
  
Connor finally managed to keep his eyes open and met Nines' gray eyes with a softness that made Nines ache. Connor had no idea what he was meant to be to Nines, what he was **supposed**  to be to him. He'd started out as a target and now? Nines didn't know what to do.  
  
He should kill Connor now and get it over with. Snap his neck and run. It'd be quick and painless, and he wouldn't have to make kind-hearted Connor suffer.  
  
"You're frowning, Nines. Are you okay?" Two fingers gently ran over Nines' forehead and down between his eyebrows to try and smooth away the look on his face. They were gentle, tender, and Nines never wanted Connor to stop.  
  
He needed Connor to stop.  


* * *

  
_Nines squeezed his target's hand, smiling softly at the man as he talked animatedly about the class he and Markus were teaching the next day. It was a sculpting day, and Connor--the target--would get to lead the class. They would be working with clay, and he was looking forward to it. He swore he couldn't paint or sketch to save himself, but that he could shape objects as easily as breathing._  
  
_Nines found his eyes drifting to Con--his prey's hand while it waved everywhere, wondering what it looked like when he was shaping a lump of clay. Did the stuff get caked into his nails? Did it take him forever to get it off? Did he ever just smack his hand down on the clay if he got it too wet just to hear the splat and get muddy water on himself? Did he smile while he worked or was he serious with a flat affect, tongue stuck out on one side while he focused?_  
  
_How did he teach? Was it with this much enthusiasm or was he more reserved? Did he take his time to make sure every student was with him, or did he have to backtrack if he got ahead of himself?_  
  
_Nines forced himself to stop thinking about it. Curiosity was not part of the mission, and burning questions weren't necessary._  
  
_Instead, he focused on how full he felt from their lunch. It had settled as a pleasant weight in his stomach, but the initial warmth from the stew had faded. Nines had to rely on his jacket and gloves to keep him warm, although his target was doing a good enough job of taking care of Nines' left hand for him._  
  
_The food was better than expected. It wasn't a place Nines would have ever brought himself to visit on his own, but his target wanted to eat there, so he lowered himself to do it. He almost felt bitter about the pleasant surprise the meal and atmosphere had provided him. One of the employees was friendly with Conn--Nines' prey and seemed to know him well. Nines thought back on the file of the places the man frequently visited and found this establishment, along with listing the employee as a friend of his. Ralph. Nines hadn't thought to look into someone like him, though he wishes he had._  
  
_Ralph unsettled him, and Ralph didn't seem to like Nines either. When he thought Nines was too busy with his phone to hear them, Ralph whispered to Connor that something wasn't right about Nines and that he didn't trust him. Connor had waved it off with a smile and an 'I'll be okay, Ralph.'_  
  
_Yes, "Connor."_  
  
_Nines was going to give up on not using his name at this point. This was a longterm mission, not a boom and move on assignment. Trying to keep himself distant in his head with Connor was going to frustrate him if they had to do this for several weeks._  
  
_He glanced at the river they were walking alongside. It was cold enough that he could "trip" Connor and the man "accidentally" fall into the water and freeze. Connor wouldn't be able to get out of the water and onto dry land for a few hundred meters. Poor planning on the developer's part, but it would be an advantage. Connor would freeze and drown from the currents before Nines could save him and that would be it._  
  
_But, no. Accidents were not on the table, he'd decided. An accident wouldn't have the same effect on Anderson as a deliberate kill. Anderson needed to know that it was planned, that Connor was dead **because**  of who Anderson was and who Connor was to him. To break him, Nines needed to ensure that it was a good kill. For now, he needed it to be brutal, an absolute mess so that Anderson would think that Connor was torn apart and tortured before he finally succumbed to his wounds._  
  
_His eyes slid to the side to see that Connor was still talking, trying to tell Nines about his dog and that Nines needed to meet him._  
  
_How on earth was this guy supposed to lead a family when he was happiest when talking about art and dogs of all things? Maybe it'd be a mercy to his family for him to be out of the picture, so things didn't go ass up under Connor's leadership._  
  
_There was no point in "what ifs." Connor was going to die by his hand, and it would look painful. No, it would be painful. It needed to be terrible._  
  
_Wishing he could finally get a word in, Nines stopped walking and pulled Connor to him, kissing him._  
  
_"Was that to shut me up?" Connor murmured when they parted._  
  
_Nines snorted, "It didn' work though, did it?"_  
  
_"No. But I'm open to you trying again." Connor grinned when Nines chuckled._  
  
_Okay. He definitely wasn't innocent, and Nines didn't know what to do with that information. It wouldn't make it easier to keep his distance. Someone who was into the physical aspects of relationships didn't automatically make them a terrible person._  
  
_Nines leaned in like he would do just that, but pulled away at the last moment, smirking at how Connor tried to chase him. Damn, this was easy. "Maybe later, hon."_  
  
_"Bastard," Connor grumbled. He avoided Nines' eyes for all of five seconds before Nines finally saw the growing smirk. Before Nines could stop him, Connor was pushing him back and forcing Nines to stumble backward to stay upright while Connor guided him further off the path. Only for Connor to give a great shove, knocking Nines into a pile of fire-bright leaves. A fucking leaf pile. This was awful and so fucking cheesy, and yet he couldn't find it in himself to be pissed at Connor or the situation._  
  
_Not when Connor grinned and laughed like that, eyes crinkling until they were nearly closed and his whole body shaking with his mirth._  
  
_Nines lay in the pile of leaves, ignoring the stick poking him in the ass and staring up at Connor. He had to admit, now would be a good time to get Connor's picture for the guy's Insta. The fall backdrop with the colorful trees that shaded the path along the river, the river itself sans that one tugboat that would be in the frame, and how the color of Connor's tinted cheeks and blue coat contrasted the whole scene perfectly._  
  
_It was strangely beautiful._  
  
_Nines hated it and shoved the thought from his mind immediately. No. It was ugly. A horrible sight for Nines to behold. Now that he thought about it, he wondered what it would look like if someone found Connor's body nestled in a leaf pile, appearing to be sleeping peacefully. Now that, that was a beautiful thought. Nines wondered if his mother would appreciate the artistic flair to it or not._  
  
_It wouldn't be with leaves from her garden's trees; she wouldn't give a fuck so long as Connor was dead._  
  
_Connor offered him a hand up and then helped Nines clean off the leaves. There was still a brilliant smile on his face as he teased Nines about it. "The look on your face as you fell was perfect."_  
  
_Maybe he could shove Connor into the leaf pile, and the stick that had been stabbing Nines in the ass could go through his heart? A little soon, but no. That would look too much like an accident._  
  
_But that didn't mean he couldn't toy with Connor._  
  
_"Oh, really? That funny, huh? Well, darling. You should see yours." Before Connor could stop him, Nines twisted and knocked Connor into the pile, scattering splashes of reds and yellows and browns everywhere in a cloud of color. Connor certainly looked surprised._  
  
_Nines was smug._  


* * *

  
_"How much longer, Nicholas?" Amanda asked, finishing her preparation to protect her flower beds from the expected frost._  
  
_"I'd give it a few more weeks. Again, Mother, I would like to make this as personal as possible to show Hank Anderson that love leads to death." Nines didn't dare help his mother with the gardening. She was fiercely protective of it and didn't like it when anyone else tried to touch them, even if she directed their every move. "How cruel will it be to see his son die at the hands of his happiness?"_  
  
_"Don't stray too far from the point of the mission. While I want Anderson to break from this, I don't want your creativity and passion for the endgame to lead to mistakes." She looked up from the current mound that held her French Marigolds; Nines hated marigolds almost as much as he hated roses._  
  
_But, that did give him an idea._  
  
_The only flowers Nines liked were Snow Drops. They were small, delicate, and yet breathtakingly beautiful in their simplicity._  
  
_Of course, his mother hated them because of how fragile they were, but she didn't stop Nines from growing a few things of his own if he wanted. Nines kept his plants in his rooms. They were mostly succulents, but the Snow Drops were the outliers among the foliage in his bedroom and bathroom and the study._  


* * *

  
_"What's that?"_  
  
_Nines held the small bundle out to him with a tiny smile. "I know they're not much, but I keep some in my room. Thought ya might like two or three."_  
  
_"Aw, thank you, Nines!" Connor was careful when he took the flowers and motioned for Nines to follow him inside his house. Nines didn't comment on the size of Connor's family home, for which he could tell Connor was grateful for. So being wealthy made him uncomfortable with newer people in his life; he didn't like to flaunt it._  
  
_Connor led him to the west wing of the estate and quickly pulled a vase out of a cabinet in a spare room and took it to his bedroom to put the flowers in the window. Nines didn't enter Connor's bedroom and leaned against the doorframe to watch the man bustle about to get water from the bathroom and adjust the vase to suit his tastes._  
  
_Nines could only shake his head. They were just flowers, not even the "perfect" ones from the store or the flowers from his mother's garden. They were mostly seen as wildflower/weeds in some circles. Sure, Nines loved them, but why the hell would Connor be this excited about them?_  
  
_Because Nines gave them to Connor with the intention of silently telling Connor that he saw the flowers and thought of him._  
  
_He wasn't sure how to handle the sappiness of the situation; Nines had never made it this far in a relationship, never actually tried to have a relationship. One-nighters were enough for him. Scratch the itch and move on._  
  
_And yet..._  
  
_Connor turned back to him with a smile that could melt the coldest hearts._  
  
_But not Nines'. It certainly wouldn't move his mother, but it didn't affect him either._  
  
_He still smiled softly and held out a hand for Connor to take. The man all but skipped to Nines to take his hand and then yanked Nines into the room with him. So much for their fourth "date." Who needed to see a movie when a pretty, young thing was all but throwing you onto his bed?_  
  
_Nines couldn't help but notice how Connor's eyes would drift to the flowers in the window while Nines worshiped every inch of the man beneath him. It was part of the mission. Getting under Connor's skin, literally or figuratively, was part of the assignment._  
  
_It was still oddly sweet to see Connor so happy about something as simple as flowers. Had no one ever gifted him with any? Why? Connor was a catch; he was sweet and genuine. Who in their right minds, and who actually wanted to woo him, would gloss over flowers as a gift?_  
  
_Connor deserved this much before he died, at least._  
  
_That's what Nines told himself._  


* * *

  
_It took three months for it to finally sink in._  
  
_He didn't know if he could kill Connor._  
  
_He was really and truly fucked, compromised because of his own foolishness._  
  
_Feelings aside, the man was just...perfect. The kindness he showed, his generosity, they weren't for show to boost his family's image. Connor felt every single one of his actions deeply, believed in what he did with an unmatched passion._  
  
_Nines hated him for it._  
  
_He hated how happy Connor seemed most days._  
  
_He hated how Connor had turned out so differently from himself. There was genuine affection between Connor and his father, and Nines found himself wishing he had that with his mother._  
  
_Nines hated that Connor had friends who loved him so dearly and that those friends extended that same love to Nines without question. They hardly knew him and yet they accepted Nines as one of their own as if he had always been there. It was confusing, dizzying, and Nines wished he'd had this growing up, that he had it now, that it wasn't all a lie._  
  
_And Connor._  
  
_Beautiful, sweet, generous, talented Connor._  
  
_He didn't deserve what Nines was supposed to do to him in...whenever Nines got around to it; he kept putting it off._  
  
_One more day. Let Connor have one more day to enjoy the fall festival, to let Connor teach that class Saturday, to let Connor have a chance to try this Christmas drink Nines made for them one evening, even though Christmas was another month away, to show Connor how to tend to the succulent that Nines gave him, to take Connor to the mountains to see how the fall leaves seemed to set the hills ablaze with color when the sun first cast the day's light on them._  
  
_He kept finding excuses to wait._  
  
_Amanda was beginning to suspect that something was wrong; Nines was taking too long._  
  
_"He has a wedding to attend next weekend. Name a better way to ruin a wedding."_  
  
_Amanda had only shot him a cold glare and turned her back on him to continue working._  


* * *

  
Nines looked away from Connor's worried gaze, focusing on the book Connor had pressed the Snow Drops in. What would happen to them when Connor was dead? Perhaps Nines could swipe the book and the flowers afterward before anyone noticed. Who would look for a single book out of the hundreds Connor had scattered about the house?  
  
At least he'd have something to remember Connor by.  
  
"Nicholas?" Nines hated how much he loved to hear Connor use his name. It sounded so beautiful, so sweet and melodic when Connor said it. When Amanda used his name, it was cold, a short command, used as a leash, and Connor's use of it freed him from the chains for one glorious moment.  


* * *

  
_It was the first time he had seen Connor so broken._  
  
_Nines got a call from Connor while he was having lunch with one of his mother's contacts and answered to hear Connor sniffing and his shaky voice begging him to come over. He kept a bored expression on his face even as he worriedly asked Connor if he was okay. Nines had to play it up; not even a family client could know he actually cared._  
  
_When he got off the phone, Nines huffed and rolled his eyes._  
  
_"I'm afraid we'll have to cut this short. I need to go fix whatever mess this brat has gotten himself into." The client seemed to believe Nines' distaste for Connor, even as it killed Nines inside to continue on with his complaint about Connor._  
  
_It turned his stomach to lie._  
  
_When he had arrived at Connor's estate, the house was deathly quiet. Nines let himself in since no one answered the door. No staff were milling about, most of the lights were off, and Nines felt an uncomfortable chill run down his spine. This didn't feel right._  
  
_What if it was a trap? What if the Anderson family figured out who he was and decided to kill him before he could kill Connor (he didn't want to kill Connor anymore)?_  
  
_Nines drew his Kahr P380 from the holster tucked away at his lower back and crept further inside. He kept his steps silent and listened for anything at all. A shift of fabric, a shadow that released a breath of movement, anything that would be a threat._  
  
_He made his way up the stairs and to Connor's room. Nines softly knocked and finally called out Connor's name._  
  
_He could hear Connor's feet hit the floor as he rushed to the door to let Nines in. Nines quickly tucked the gun back into the holster and put his hands back in place before Connor could see, just in time to get an armful of Connor._  
  
_Connor was shaking, crying quietly as he clung to Nines for support. Nines' hold on him wound up being the only thing keeping Connor from hitting the floor._  
  
_"C-Connor? What's wrong, sweetie?" Nines guided Connor back into his bedroom, locking the door behind him, and helped Connor to the bed to sit. The room was dark and dreary; something Nines didn't think possible with all of the bright colors and the light flooding through the windows. Everything felt washed out, desaturated and dull and devoid of the life Connor brought into it. Connor's sorrow, whatever the cause, killed the room around them._  
  
_Nines wrapped his arms around Connor tightly and ran a hand soothingly over Connor's back. "Connor, love, tell me what's wrong. Are you hurt?"_  
  
_Connor shook his head and hid his face in Nines' shirt._  
  
_Nines ran a hand through curly hair._  
  
_"Eighth anniversary." Anniversary? Nines didn't remember anything in Connor's files about...oh._  
  
_"Of Cole's death?" Nines offered softly, feeling sick when Connor nodded and tried to hold back another sob. Eight years and Connor still mourned his older brother like this. How much love did the brothers feel for each other that it would leave Connor broken like this? Nines would have thought that Connor would have managed to move past it to some extent by this time. He didn't think it would still be this painful._  
  
_Nines didn't know any better; he'd never lost anyone, had never had a reason to mourn for someone he'd cared about. Not yet, at least._  
  
_"I'm so sorry, Connor. I should have been here this morning or--or something. Don't hesitate to call me sooner, love. I'm here." He pressed a soft kiss to Connor's head and began to sway side to side. Nines didn't have a damn clue how to comfort someone who was mourning a death, and it wasn't like he could pull out his phone and Google it to find out. That would likely make it worse...or something._  
  
_And he couldn't base it off of his own experiences because he didn't have any._  
  
_"Tell me how I can help, Connor, please," Nines whispered._  
  
_Connor didn't answer, just curled closer to Nines. Okay, cuddling it is for now. Nines reluctantly pulled away from Connor to pull the blankets down on the bed and toe his shoes off. He helped Connor crawl under them and, after removing his jacket and the pistol tucked away into the back, crawled in beside him._  
  
_He opened his arms for Connor to immediately latch onto him. Nines hugged him tightly and waited. He didn't know how else to help Connor like this._  
  
_The rest of the day passed this way, with Nines leaving long enough to get snacks and water; he didn't want Connor to skip out on eating and to stay hydrated. Even a sip or a bite would be better than nothing._  
  
_Nines woke the next morning, feeling disgusting for having slept in his clothes, but forgot about it when he found Connor watching him. Connor had shifted to rest his hand on Nines' chest and his cheek on his hand. He was running the index finger on his other hand up and down Nines' nose with an unreadable expression. Nines was at a loss and lay there watching Connor study every centimeter of Nines' face and hair. It was unnerving to find himself scrutinized like this by anyone other than his mother. Connor wasn't an idiot; he was brilliant and was a quick study, and that sharp focus directed at Nines left him feeling stripped bare._  
  
_He worried about what Connor could see. What did he see what he looked at Nines? Did he know Nines' sins? Did he know what Nines was supposed to do? Who he's killed in the past without mercy or an ounce of concern for right and wrong? Did he know how much his love for Nines was killing Nines piece at a time? Did he know that Nines' love for Connor would be Connor's cause of death?_  
  
_"You stayed," he murmured, not meeting Nines' eyes but studying his chin. "No one else I've been with has stayed on the anniversary."_  
  
_Who the fuck would do that to Connor?_  
  
_Nines, if he hadn't fallen in love with Connor yet._  
  
_"Yeah, well, they were pricks, and you deserve better than them." Than me, went unsaid, but the look on Connor's face told Nines that he understood what Nines dared not speak. Connor disagreed, and Nines knew he didn't deserve it._  
  
_His lips twitched towards a soft smile, but there was still pain in his eyes, still haunting his gaze as Connor stared at Nines as if Nines were his only lifeline. Nines couldn't handle this. The guilt was suffocating him, strangling him like he could do to Connor right now. He could end this now and get it over with. Connor may not even fight him in this state._  
  
_"But you're here, Nicholas, not them." Nines didn't think he'd tire of hearing Connor say his name. It was like Connor was exhaling his first breath of fresh, mountain_ air, _like Connor was praying to Nines, like Connor didn't know any other name in the universe but Nines'. He didn't deserve this love, this reverence. Connor was the one who should have Nines on his hands and knees, begging for forgiveness and just let him hear Connor say his name one last time before Nines left forever._  
  
_"You still deserve better." Nines kept his voice a whisper; he feared breaking the quiet would shatter what little was left of his resolve, what little control he had over his decisions, over his life. Had he deserved Connor, he would have helped Connor run away and hide months ago instead of leading him on like this._  
  
_Was he even leading Connor on now?_  
  
_Nines loved him. He adored Connor, and he hated it._  
  
_Because even though Nines loved him dearly, he was still dating Connor under a lethal lie._  
  
_"It's me who doesn't deserve someone like you, Nicholas. You're kind and loving. You're here." **No, you don't know what you're saying.**  "Thank you, for being here with me yesterday. You have no idea how much that means to me."_  
  
_Nines wanted to tell him the truth, wanted Connor to hate him so fiercely that he would know where Nines had his pistol hidden and would kill him on the spot. He wanted to die by Connor's hand, rather than kill Connor._  
  
_He was a coward of the worst kind._  
  
_"Connor, I--" Nines stopped short, choosing instead to roll them, so Connor was beneath him. He could give Connor this much before he died. At this point, if Nines didn't kill him, someone else would. Either way, Connor wouldn't last much longer._  
  
_Neither had said 'I love you' yet, but the looks and smiles they shared had been enough._  
  
_Nines kissed Connor, breathed the words against Connor's lips and tried not to cry as he kissed him, tried not to break down as he poured every ounce of love he felt for Connor in his touch, in his kiss, in the prayerful words he spoke into being against Connor's skin. Connor shuddered in his arms, tears gathering in his eyes. Nines didn't understand why Connor was crying. Had he done something?_  
  
_He moved back up to kiss away the tears, quietly asking if Connor was okay._  
  
_"I-I'm fine..." He sniffed and bit his lip, trying to get himself back under control. Connor finally pulled Nines back down to kiss him, whispering his affection and love to Nines._  
  
_Nines hated himself; he hated how much of this he felt. He wished he could go back to before, to when he felt nothing and cared for no one but himself and his family's interests. It would make this so much easier. He wouldn't be making Connor suffer, wouldn't make himself suffer. It would have been over and done with if he'd just murdered Connor immediately after his mother gave him the assignment. He hated **feeling**._  
  
_His silent apology to Connor, for everything Nines had done and would do eventually, was to shower Connor in love and to treat him like the impossibly precious person he was. There was no one else like him, and Nines knew he'd never meet someone who could compare._  
  
_"I love you, Connor." He pressed a kiss over Connor's heart and then whispered it again before every kiss he gave Connor's body. Nines was going to make a day of it, or try to, and make sure Connor didn't leave this room today without feeling like he was the most important person in the world, the only one who deserved this much love and affection and that everyone should give it to him, not just Nines._  
  
_Nines wanted Connor to feel special._  
  
_He cared too much for Connor._  
  
_He hated it._  


* * *

  
  
_"You're compromised, aren't you, Nicholas?"_  
  
_Nines could hear the soft fury beneath her calm statement. It wasn't a question; Amanda knew damn well that he had fucked up, and that he may not be able to finish the mission and kill Anderson's only remaining son and heir. He cared about his target, and she knew he wouldn't be able to do it without a threat. Threatening his person would do nothing. At this point, she knew Nines would take every beating and every minute of agony if it meant that Connor didn't die._  
  
_"If you don't kill him by the end of the month, that's two weeks, then I will have someone else do it, and I will make sure that Connor goes through unimaginable pain, Nicholas. You can make it painless, or you can let me handle it my way. Either way, Connor is going to die. It's up to you if he suffers."_  
  
_Nines felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head. Amanda followed through on her threats. It didn't matter how detailed or disturbingly creative the threat was; she made it happen. If she promised that Connor would be tortured before she killed him, then Connor would be in agony for hours until Amanda finally delivered the final blow._  
  
_He was running out of time, and he was out of options._  


* * *

  
"I'm...having a hard time with my family. I'm sorry to worry ya like that."  
  
"You don't talk about them much." Connor drew lazy circles over Nines' chest and stomach.  
  
"Because they're terrible people and I wish we weren't related," he muttered. It was the truth. Nines had come to hate his mother almost as much as he hated himself.  
  
He needed to direct the conversation elsewhere; Nines didn't know how much more he could say before he said too much to Connor and gave himself away.  
  
"Please don't worry about it though, Con. It'll pass eventually." Nines lightly poked Connor's nose and smirked at how Connor wrinkled it immediately after. Cute.  
  
"Need me to kill them for you? I know how to hide a body," he joked. From what Nines knew about Connor's file, he probably did know how to hide a body, even though he'd never actually done so.  
  
But that did give him an idea, a possible way to resolve the issue. He filed it away for later though. Nines didn't have long to decide, but he'd have to soon enough.  
  
"Tempting, but I'd rather have the honor, hon." He smiled when Connor leaned up to kiss him. Nines wished he could wake up to this every morning, to find Connor beside him and smiling. "Careful, where I come from, an offer of murder is the same as proposing."  
  
That startled a laugh out of Connor, who moved to straddle Nines. "Oh, really? And you turned down my proposal, Nicholas? I'm hurt."  
  
"Oh, so ya offered for a courting ritual? Why didn't you say so, darling?" He tensed when Connor rolled his hips against Nines', and Nines shot Connor a look.  
  
Connor simply smirked and did it again. "Because I was hoping for it to be a surprise."  
  
"I am definitely surprised."  
  
With a laugh, Connor stopped teasing him and leaned over to kiss Nines. Nines ran his hands over smooth skin, marveling at the feel of Connor beneath his fingertips. Toned, but with a soft spot on either hip that Nines like to playfully nibble on when he could get Connor to hold still long enough for him to get to it; Connor was apparently ticklish on his hips, and Nines paying close attention to the pudge there was close enough to have Connor squirming and laughing.  
  
Sex was supposed to be fun anyway. Who said you couldn't laugh?  
  
Especially when Connor's laugh is what lured the sun into rising in the mornings when the laughter was a promise to celestial bodies that everything would be okay. The sun nor the moon could deny Connor the world when he laughed.  
  
He was confused when Connor pulled away for a moment to stare down at Nines. His expression was severe, calculating, and it had Nines squirming uncomfortably.  
  
"Um, Con?"  
  
"Is this about you killing me?"  
  
Nines felt his blood run cold, every cell in his body freezing in the realization that Connor knew about it. How long had he known? Why didn't he do anything to stop him? Why did he--  
  
"I can see you panicking, Nicholas. Breathe, love." Connor ran a hand over Nines' cheek, gentle and tender and what the fuck was happening? He spoke softly, "I'm not mad. I was in the beginning, but I'm definitely not now."  
  
"How long have you known?"  
  
Connor shrugged. "Since the third date, but I was curious as to how long it would take you. You had four opportunities up to that point to kill me, and you didn't. I couldn't figure out why."  
  
"Why didn't you kill me first?" He should have killed Nines the moment he figured it out, for his own safety.  
  
"Because I have yet to kill anyone, and I would like to keep it that way." Connor's face twisted into a sad smile, "Besides, I could see you struggling with it anyway. I wasn't too worried by the time we had our seventh date. By that point, I didn't think you would ever do it."  
  
"My mother said to make sure you were dead by the end of next week, or she'd take care of it herself."  
  
Connor was eerily silent, eyes trained on the wall above his headboard. The wall that needed to be repaired after their last...Stay on track. Nines was about to break the silence when Connor sighed and finally spoke. "Then get it over with, Nicholas."  
  
It was the last straw, the final weight that broke the dam. Nines, despite his best efforts, felt everything crumbling and crashing down around him. His carefully constructed walls were dust as he felt tears filling his eyes.  
  
"I can't, Connor. I can't," he whispered. It was a broken plea, one that begged Connor to drop it. Nines didn't want to think about it, didn't want to dwell on something that was tearing him apart. Nines sobbed. "I can't do it. I can't. Icanticanticanticantica--"  
  
Connor pressed a hand over Nines' mouth to shut him up a moment, his gaze almost cold as he studied Nines to look for any lie in his behavior. Nines, who was falling apart at the seams. Nines, who was shaking uncontrollably in fear and sorrow at the thought of killing the only person in his life who had shown him love. Nines, who couldn't bring himself to destroy the light in his life. He couldn't snuff it out, couldn't strangle it, or break it, or shoot it, or or or or or...  
  
Connor's gaze softened into something loving and understanding. Nines didn't deserve it; he didn't want it. He couldn't handle Connor being kind to him, knowing that Nines had only started the relationship with him for the purpose of killing him.  
  
"Nicholas. Nicholas, shhh. Shhh, easy, my love." Connor's hand was cupping Nines' cheek softly. "I'm not mad. I promise I'm not mad. I get it."  
  
"But I--"  
  
"Nicholas." Connor exhaled slowly, thumb stroking the soft skin beneath Nines' eyes. "We'll figure something out. Somehow. Don't worry, please?"  
  
Nines didn't know how they'd fix this, how he could save Connor from what Amanda wanted to be done to him. He couldn't think straight when it came to Connor. Connor scrambled everything in Nines' head, and logic was meaningless.  
  
"I can't stop worrying."  
  
"I could tell. Believe me; you've grown rougher in the eyes over the last few weeks, the longer this went on. No one looks like that when they don't worry or feel guilty about something." Connor kissed him softly. "I love you."  
  
"You shouldn't, Con. You sh--"  
  
"Don't tell me what I should and shouldn't feel, Nicholas. I am free to love whoever the fuck I want, and you're that whoever, whether you think you deserve it or not." Nines nodded slowly, scared of disagreeing with Connor.  
  
Connor's expression softened, and he leaned down again to kiss him. Nines pushed into it and held onto Connor like he was the only tether for his sanity at the moment. When he pulled away, Nines finally noted the desperation and fear in Connor's eyes; he didn't want to see Connor scared again and fuck. He needed to fix this.  
  
"Use that big brain of yours, Nicholas so that we can figure something out."  


* * *

  
Nines did have a list of ideas. Two of those, he could use together to have a more pleasant outcome. Hopefully. It would depend on how well the last step went.  
  
It was cutting it close, and it was risky, but Nines found a place to camp out with a good view of his mother's garden. He'd already told Connor to lie and say that Nines was with him if anyone asked, and then he told Connor not to ask him why.  
  
That was yesterday.  
  
Right now, Nines methodically put together the rifle that was stored in the case at the base of his perch. Each part he connected was one step closer to freedom and Connor's safety. He looked into what guns were trademarks of rival families to redirect attention to them, rather than Nines or the Andersons. He just prayed that it would work. A few other token pieces of "evidence" were placed elsewhere to add to the whole of the picture. Nines didn't give a fuck as to what happened to the Kamski family, so long as Connor was safe and Nines was free of his mother's control.  
  
He waited an hour in his perch, gun already in position with Nines on his stomach to stay low. When Amanda finally emerged from the house for her daily walk through the gardens, Nines readied himself. He was going to kill his mother, and whether he liked her or not, this was...hard.  
  
Most of the garden was brown, and the wintery skies cast shades of gray over the landscape. The plants were asleep for the winter and bundled for protection from the cold until spring. They would perk back up in a few months. His mother wouldn't have that privilege. There would be no coming back from this.  
  
Pulling out a phone he'd pickpocketed off of someone at the grocery store, Nines called her and set it next to him with speakerphone activated. Through his scope, he watched as Amanda pulled her phone out and answered.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Nines adopted the accent he'd used on Connor and raised the pitch, laying it on thick. Like hell would he make it easy on anyone who might be listening; Nines was assuming the worst with every action to keep himself ready for a slip-up.  
  
"It's the last day for that Anderson brat to die, yeah? I wanted to offer my services in finishin' the job for ya. I'm efficient and would be happy to show you my work, but I can take it slow if ya'd like."  
  
"Who is this?" Amanda demanded. "How do you know about that?"  
  
Nines smirked as Amanda turned this way and that to make sure she was alone. She was scared. Good. That's precisely what he wanted her to feel before he finished her. "M'name doesn't matter, ma'am. Do ya want the help or nah?"  
  
"Not until you tell me who informed you of the assignment," she snapped.  
  
"What's the phrase? 'Snitches get stitches'? I can't remember half the shit kids say these days, ya know? Anyway, I ain't gonna tell you who let it slip. 'Sides, it won't matter in a minute."  
  
"Why?" Amanda turned to spot Nines finally.  
  
"Good-bye, Ms. Stern." Before she could say his name or shout for help, Nines had a bullet between her eyes. Watching her collapse onto the stone pathway with blood seeping out to stain the ground and her white clothes evoked a mix of feelings. Sad that he didn't have a mother now, but relieved because she'd never felt like one to him anyway.  
  
"Boom," he whispered into the phone.  
  
\--  
  
Nines looked down at the body of his mother in the casket. He was supposed to see her before they cremated her for him. Nines didn't want a body, didn't want her to be remembered in any way, shape, or form. He was only here for the show of it and to collect her ashes. Nines planned to throw her ashes into the toilet when he got home. Fuck her.  
  
He still hadn't told Connor what he'd done, but it was in the news and Connor was smart enough to know what happened. Nines only wished he could see Connor right now. As much as he hated his mother, as much as he didn't want her in his life because of how cold she had been his whole life, Nines still felt a strange ache, a longing for her. He hated how it pulled at him, how it tried to drown him in guilt and sorrow for the loss of someone he hardly knew, of someone who let him raise himself and never gave a damn about him.  
  
How silly, to mourn a parent who neglected you, to mourn someone who was manipulative and abusive in their quiet way. It made him sick that a part of him still cared.  
  
It would take years to get over that, if ever.  
  
Nines gathered the container of ashes a few hours later and made his way home. As soon as he flushed his mother down the toilet, Nines set about calling a meeting with who his mother called the "inner circle." They would either accept the change in leadership and his authority, or they could buy a grave plot.  
  
\--  
  
Nines and Connor didn't talk much during the transition; Nines needed to secure his position as the head of the family. Connor understood completely, but that didn't stop him from sending Nines provocative photos while Nines was in a meeting to mess with him. Whenever Nines got his hands on the little shit, he planned to take him out to dinner and then home to ravage him for the teasing.  
  
He figured Connor wouldn't have any complaints about it.  
  
The photos of him and Sumo, his dog, or the people he met at the food pantry were pictures he planned to print out and frame in his room.  
  
Part of the transition meant reestablishing territory lines, ensuring that no one in the area was encroaching on someone else's space. Nines didn't want an all-out war with another family if he could avoid it, and made sure to pull some of his people back to ensure that they "stayed in their lane." The territory was an odd thing. Nines wished he could just have the whole of the city, but that's what every family wanted.  
  
Until Nines finished his "mourning," the families had called a truce of sorts to let Nines get it out of his system and get situated. It was oddly kind of them, and he didn't trust it.  
  
Connor persuaded everyone to give him time to adjust, it turned out. He probably used those damn puppy eyes of his. **Apparently**  even hardened criminals couldn't say no to them. Nines wasn't surprised.  
  
\--  
  
It was foolish of him, almost suicide to do this, but Nines needed to do this as a show of goodwill. And, it would add more protection for Connor, if that made a difference in what he was about to do.  
  
He didn't have any security with him, not on the estate, at least. They stayed parked out on the road to show that Nines wasn't here to stir up trouble. Nines handed over his pistol to the guards just inside the door and let them escort him to the office in the northern wing.  
  
One of them knocked on the door and called out, "Mr. Anderson, Stern is here to talk to you."  
  
There was silence from the other side of the door, not a response. It took long enough that the guard was about to knock again when they heard slow footsteps. Hank was taking his time to meet with Nines purely to put him on edge. Which was hilarious. Nines didn't think he could be any further on the edge without falling into the deep end. Maybe he already had.  
  
The door opened slowly to reveal an older man with his gray hair pulled back. He wasn't in a suit, for some reason, which Nines found odd. To see a family head dressed casually like this unsettled him. Maybe it was because Anderson didn't think he would be meeting with anyone today.  
  
Anderson gave Nines a once over and then looked out into the hall to find that there were no guards in Nines' employ to keep Nines safe should something go wrong.  
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Mr. Stern. My condolences for the loss of your mother." Anderson held out his hand and Nines took it, meeting the grip and not dropping eye contact with Hank. He briefly wished that Connor was here, but Nines knew it was best for Connor to be away with Markus at the community center than here, where things could go wrong at the drop of a hat.  
  
"I appreciate your compassion, Mr. Anderson. I apologize for the surprise visit, however, but I wished to do this without any of the other families knowing." Because they knew damn well that someone would let it slip and everyone would think that they were conspiring against them. Which, they might be if this went well.  
  
"Is that supposed to put me at ease, Mr. Stern?" Anderson released Nines' hands and turned away to make for his desk, expecting Nines to follow him without his asking him to. Rather than go behind the desk, Anderson leaned against the front of it, one foot crossed over the other and hands on either side of himself to balance himself.  
  
"If the outcome of this meeting goes the way I hope, then yes."  
  
Nines wasn't sure if he should sit to let Anderson have the height advantage, or remain standing to show his own strength in presence. Hank might not agree to this if Nines appeared weak.  
  
"Then out with it."  
  
\--  
  
The debate became heated enough at one point that Anderson's guards barged in to make sure Nines wasn't attacking him. Nines hated not having his own here. He felt exposed in a house full of Anderson's security detail. Anderson simply waved them off and told them to shut the door on their way out.  
  
"And how do I know you won't just kill h--"  
  
"Have I made any indication of wanting to do that? And what do you think would happen to the alliance if I did? I have no desire to lose..." Nines' anger dissipated, shoulders falling. "Mr. Anderson, I could never do it..."  
  
\--  
  
The holidays came and went, and on the last day of January, they finally met again. Nines was the shy one, the one who was nervous with the sweaty palms and inability to stay still, restless. Connor asked about it, but Nines waved it off and stated that he wasn't looking forward to the noise of the festival they were going to attend. Which was true, but it wasn't the whole of it.  
  
A few minutes after midnight, after the two of them decided to return to Nines' estate early and watch the festivities from a balcony, Nines swallowed thickly and took a knee beside Connor. It was a herculean effort to keep his hands from shaking as he removed the small box in his pocket.  
  
It took a second for Connor to notice that Nines was on his knees and peer down at him. His jaw dropped and rather than either of them say anything, just stuck his hand out like an idiot for Nines to put the ring on his finger. Well, that solved the problem of Nines worrying about studdering out the proposal; he couldn't remember the damn speech he'd planned out anyway.  
  
Connor looked down at the simple band, noting how the light of the fireworks reflected off of the brushed silver surface. His eyes retrained on Nines when Nines stood, and before Nines could think to say anything, Connor had a firm grip on Nines' scarf and yanked him forward so he could kiss him.  
  
Every kiss they shared, Nines had decided, was better than the last. Each filled with more love and understanding and fulfillment that he had never experienced. There was tenderness, passion, a flash of brilliance that Nines could **taste**  when Connor just pecked Nines' cheek in the mornings.  
  
When Connor pulled away a fraction of an inch, he grinned and murmured against Nines' lips, "I hope you understood the 'yes' in there."  
  
Nines laughed and closed the distance again, kissing away doubts, kissing his excitement for the yes, for Connor's happiness, and all but breathed it into Connor.


	2. Pirate AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is a pirate Captain and Nines/Nicholas is a kidnapped doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK but my assumption was that any pirate things for today's prompt will have Nines as the pirate and Connor as the regular joe or whatever so I'm like, let's have Captain Connor here to steal your doctor.  
> Warnings for this chapter: None

Doctor Nicholas Stern woke with a headache, centralized to one area. Someone had knocked him out rather forcefully.  
  
When he managed to open his eyes, he found himself in the captain's quarters, tucked into the bed with a light blanket. It was night time, lanterns casting a shimmering, yellow light on the walls around him. The room was decorated with dozens of books, more than he would have expected of a pirate. Along with the books, were a number of instruments used in tandem with astronomy. Following the sky was a necessity when you didn't have any other physical markers for your position in the world, he guessed. He tended to avoid boats; how should he know more than that?  
  
What did the captain look like? Nicholas could only remember facing down several of the captain's crew. Nine of them, to be exact. He managed to take down all but one of them by leading them into a narrow hall where he could fight them one-by-one when they couldn't spread out to surround him.  
  
The last one got him from cheating, but what did he expect from pirates?  
  
Slowly, Nicholas uncovered himself and stood, finding his white coat draped on a hook by the bed. It had been a gift, a joke.  
  
_"Don't doctors in the city wear white coats?" Chloe had asked, knowing damn well that they didn't._  
  
_"No, that is just in the stories." He appreciated the gesture, however, and cherished the garment and done what he could to keep it in pristine condition. The obsidian buttons were a pleasing contrast, in his opinion. Black and white, just like his work and personality. Something was, or it wasn't. Either you did the work, or you didn't. Told the whole truth, or you lied completely. There wasn't a gray area. There was never a gray area, and Nicholas didn't believe that such a thing existed in the real world._  
  
He managed to put his boots on without stumbling when the boat rocked, and then made for the door on unsteady legs. Outside the door, he could hear laughter and singing, something he didn't want to know the reason for. Were they always this jovial and lively, or were they celebrating something?  
  
Nicholas slipped outside quietly and tried to not raise any attention to himself, which, in hindsight, his coat would give him away if people there cared to pay attention to their captive. Why did they take him, anyway? Nicholas was a good doctor, yes, but there were better elsewhere in the country. Surely they could have found someone else that would have done the job. And it wasn't like he was overly wealthy or related to someone important.  
  
Was it cruel of him to wish this on someone else?  
  
Slowly, he made his way up the stairs to the quarterdeck to see if he could find the captain. Perhaps he could talk some sense into them and find a way to get himself home. He had people to take care of, and Chloe wasn't finished with her apprenticeship. Nicholas couldn't just leave her there to do it on her own yet.  
  
Wait. Was Chloe hurt? Was she okay? Did they kidnap her too or harm her in some way? Oh Ranine, if they hurt her, he'd find a way to kill them all.  
  
As he made it to the upper deck, Nicholas saw the captain at the helm, not even bothering to steer it but simply leaning against it and staring out at the crew on the main deck who were laughing louder than before. Someone must have made a joke or reenacted something.  
  
He was young for a captain, at least in appearance. His face was slightly rounded like he hadn't entirely lost the boyish face of his youth. His coat was gray, but it was open, along with half of his shirt to let some of the cool night air circulate through his clothes and against his skin. His trousers were a darker gray, and his black boots finished off the look. The captain kept his hair long and pulled back neatly.  
  
Just like the books and unusual instruments in his quarters, the captain looked far more dignified than stories portrayed pirates.  
  
The captain didn't acknowledge Nicholas' presence at first, choosing to look out over his crew fondly and smiling faintly. He cared for them, then. Pirates had hearts? Weren't they all out to get one another or distrusting or something?  
  
Maybe he had earned their loyalty this way, or perhaps he just paid them enough to keep them in line.  
  
Nicholas didn't care to know. He just wanted to get home.  
  
"I wondered when you'd wake up," the captain murmured, still not looking at Nicholas. "I have a task for you, and I'll need you to do your best."  
  
A task? A pirate was telling Nicholas that he had something he'd like him to do?  
  
"I beg your pardon..."  
  
"Pardoned." The captain's lips twitched towards a grin, and he finally turned his gaze up to meet Nicholas'.  
  
"I refuse to do anything for a kidnapper," Nicholas snapped. The audacity. A pirate and his crew kidnap a doctor of all people and then all but demands him to do what he wanted? "The heat must have fried your brain. I am not doing anything for you."  
  
The captain's smile didn't falter, in fact, it only grew. "A sassy one, aren't we? Are you always this back-talky?"  
  
He pushed himself upright, and Nicholas was surprised to find that they were close in height. With how young he looked, Nicholas half expected him to be shorter than this.  
  
"I'm Connor Anderson, but Captain Anderson will do just fine." It was not an optional thing, however; Nicholas would be expected to use the title unless told otherwise. "And don't deny my humble request until you know what it is. I am sure you will be more than willing to help once you see the problem."  
  
"Is that meant to be a threat? Are you forcing me to help you?" Nicholas scowled at him. "I do not help murderers."  
  
Captain Anderson laughed at that and shook his head. "No one in my crew is allowed to kill anyone unless it's self-defense. Mainly, if the Queen's Navy tries to attack us first. No, this task is something that I think will appeal to your better nature. If you would follow me, doctor Stern."  
  
"How do you...?"  
  
"It was on the sign above the door to your practice." Oh.  
  
Anderson didn't tell Nicholas to follow, but Nicholas knew he didn't have a choice but to do so and trek after the man. Why did this happen to him of all people? What was the captain going to have him do?  
  
Anderson led him into the officers' quarters and to a bed in the back with someone asleep in it, and another person was sitting in a chair beside the bed. Anderson lit a lamp halfway down the row of beds and desks to help them see more of what was to come and to add to the light that was already beside the bed, and Nines was surprised to find a child in the bed. What the hell was a child doing on a pirate ship?  
  
"A...child?"  
  
The captain would have grinned in triumph at Nicholas' sudden interest and the concern on his face if it weren't for the situation.  
  
Tucked into the bed snuggly was a girl of about eight or nine, who was white as a sheet and looked as frail as an old woman who had one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel. Why did they have a sick child on a pirate ship? Why didn't they have a doctor looking after her or...so that's why he was here.  
  
"What's wrong with your ship's physician?" Nicholas asked quietly, not wishing to disturb the sleeping girl. In the chair next to her was a hulking man with a kind face. He would have appeared scary if Nicholas had met him alone, but with the child beside him, trusting him, he determined that the man couldn't be all bad.  
  
It was the unnamed crew-member who replied, not Captain Anderson. "She died in the last attack on us by the Navy. Lucy was already tending to Alice and was administering medicine when they barged in and shot her. They didn't see Alice, or they may have taken her with them."  
  
"Why is there a child on this ship to begin with?"  
  
"Because she is mine and Kara's daughter, and we have no one on shore for her to stay with."  
  
"So you two are being--" Nicholas stopped himself. It wouldn't be a good idea to piss off a man that size because Nicholas insulted his parenting skills. Nicholas looked back at Anderson. "Why did you all not go to shore to have someone treat her on the mainland? I would have gladly taken her in at my office. You did not have to kidnap me for this."  
  
That had Anderson smirking and clapping a hand on Nines' shoulder. "So you've agreed to help us! Thank you. The entire crew adores Alice and spoils her rotten. To lose her would be..." His grin fell immediately and his soft gaze shifted to look at Alice. "No one on this ship would be missed more if they were lost to us than little Alice. Just, please help her and set her right again, and we will take you home immediately. We couldn't stay on shore that long and risk the Navy catching us while we were docked."  
  
Then why not just ask me to join you? Nicholas thought irritably. Pirates. What the fuck?  
  
"Fine. But I will not promise that I can help her." More like save, he thought bitterly. Nines rubbed at his forehead with a tired sigh. This was only making his headache worse. "Did you heathens at least think to grab some of my supplies and could you bring them to me? That, and anything belonging to this Lucy you spoke of that I can use. I would also like my glasses back, if your crew thought to bring them with you."  
  
"Yes. It's in my quarters. Excuse me, and I'll bring them to you, along with what I can find of Lucy's in her previous room. I believe she kept a journal of everything she did for her patients. There should be an entry on Alice."  
  
Nicholas didn't reply outside of a nod and turned back to Alice, staring down tiredly. Of course, there was a child with a mysterious illness involved. It couldn't be some easy patch them up and get the fuck out of here job.  
  
When it was just Nicholas, Alice, and Alice's father, the stranger spoke again. "My name is Luther. Thank you for your help, doctor Stern."  
  
Did I have a choice? he thought bitterly.  
  
"I have a soft spot for children, Mr. Luther. Only a monster would deny a child aid." Whether he wanted to be here or not, Nicholas was in for the long haul. He knelt by Alice's bed and grabbed the lantern Anderson had left behind to shed some light over her sleeping form. It was obvious that she had an infection. He didn't know what kind or how to treat it until he could find the source.  
  
"Has she been exposed to anything strange lately? Or has anyone else on the ship shown signs of illness? Did you go on shore and expose her to someone there who may have been sick?"  
  
Luther's lips twitched towards a smile, "Lucy located the infection and began treatment, but Alice has been without it for three days now."  
  
"And I am assuming what she is sick with and how Lucy was treating it is in the journal?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Then that makes this easier. Sort of.  
  
"Then why did you need me? If it was in her notes, could you not have followed the instructions and care plan she set up?" They didn't need him for this at all dammit!  
  
"When they shot her, she dropped the vial that had Alice's medicine in it. We don't know what was in it."  
  
Nicholas sighed and reached out to rest the back of his hand over her forehead, and then slipped a piece of glass from the lantern in his hand to hold up to her mouth. He wanted to see what her breathing was like, how quickly it fogged the glass. It was the best he could do aside from just holding his hand or ear over her mouth.  
  
When Anderson returned with Nicholas and Lucy's things, Nicholas sat back and put the glass back into the side of the lantern before snatching the journal from Anderson's hand and then quickly locating his glasses from among his belongings. This was pissing him off. With how long she's been sick and untreated, he wasn't sure what her chances were of recovering yet. None, probably.  
  
He flipped through the pages of the worn leather journal and then reached into the bag Anderson had brought him to find a pen to write with. Once he found the page on Alice near the end, Nicholas exhaled slowly and started to read, scribbling his own notes in the margins. He didn't hear or see Anderson trade places with Luther, letting Luther get some rest after sitting with Alice for who knew how long. It wasn't until Nicholas figured out what Lucy had given Alice that he finally noticed someone staring at him.  
  
Nicholas looked up to find that it was Anderson.  
  
Their eyes met, Anderson's curious and soft, and Nicholas' distrusting and irritated.  
  
"What?" he groused.  
  
"You're sassy, back-talk, and now you snap at me for no reason? Are you always this cranky?" he teased.  
  
Nicholas rolled his eyes and glanced at the vials of whatever the hell Anderson had brought from Lucy's things. Right. Medicine. He looked at the journal, dread filling him.  
  
He pointed with his pen to the bottles of herbs and whatever nonsense she might have crocked up. "Please tell me she has yarrow aaand..." Nicholas glanced back down to the journal. "Elderflower."  
  
When Anderson didn't move, Nicholas glared back at him. "If you want her to get better, then I need your help. Check and see if she has those two herbs."  
  
The man nodded and stood, taking the three steps to the table and parsing through the bottles to see what she had. "She...hasn't labeled all of them, and I'll admit that I have no idea what either of those two things looks like."  
  
Nicholas leaned forward and let his head thunk against the side of the bed, groaning in irritation. He muttered, "Where is Chloe when I need her?"  
  
"Who's Chloe? Oh! The young woman they saw at your office? Is she your wife?" he asked curiously.  
  
"No. She's training to be a physician under my tutorage."  
  
"Poor thing," Anderson muttered.  
  
"Why?" Nicholas stood and brought the journal with him to the table, quickly flipping through the vials and pouches and snuffboxes, of all things, and quickly locating the two things he needed. "Do you know if she was making this into a tea or...?"  
  
"Tea," Anderson answered quickly. "And I said that because you seem to be such a grump. How she can stand to learn from you is beyond me."  
  
Nicholas clenched his jaw, wishing he could punch the captain and called it a day. He wasn't sure if he should rise to the bait or tell Anderson how he planned to treat Alice.  
  
"She is the wife of a friend of mine, and already knowing her work ethic and brilliance, I was more than happy to train her. She is even-tempered, kind, and a quick study. I could not ask for a better student." Nicholas dug through his things and pulled out what he hoped would make for a usable tea bag. "We get along swimmingly. I am hesitant to ask, but do you have water on here or only weak booze?"  
  
Anderson snorted, "We have water, though we use it sparingly."  
  
"Well, I need water. I need to hydrate her before I can give her the tea. The yarrow is going to induce sweating, along with beating back the fever in tandem with the elderflower." He mixed the two herbs and poured them into the bag, and then began to search his and Lucy's supplies to see if there was anything else usable. From the looks of it, they could only treat the symptoms and wait it out. Nicholas scribbled it into the notebook when he found nothing else and sighed. "I do not have much to work with. I can treat the fever and keep her hydrated until she is able to eat something. It is now a waiting game. I apologize."  
  
"Should I tell Luther and Kara that?" Anderson asked, already making for the door.  
  
Nicholas was rubbing his face, frowning. "I will in the morning. I want to give her a few hours to see if the fever breaks first."  
  
Anderson nodded and left the room. Nicholas looked back to the little girl in the bed beside him with a sorrowful expression. She isn't going to make it unless we have a miracle, he thinks.  
  
\--  
  
Nicholas stayed up through the night, watching her breathing--making sure she was still breathing--and looking through Lucy's journal. She was more than a little competent. What the hell was she doing on a pirate ship? Lucy could have made a name for herself in a city somewhere; she was resourceful and quick to diagnose any problems, with full success. It was impressive, he decided.  
  
He dozed off around the time the sun was coming up. Nicholas could hear everything around him clearly, the noise of people trading from the night crew to the morning, and let his mind wander around what would happen if Alice didn't make it. Would they kill him? Would they force him to stay with them because of the failure? It wasn't like it was his fault that she died, if she died.  
  
Anderson wandered in shortly after seven, looking well put together and bright-eyed. Nicholas slowly opened his eyes and stared at the approaching captain with calm indifference.  
  
Sometime in the night, Nicholas had shed his coat and rolled up his sleeves to ward off some of the heat in the cramped room. The rocking motion was still bothering him, but it wasn't as bad as the night before.  
  
"How is she?" he asked softly, eyes on Alice.  
  
Nicholas rubbed at his eyes, trying to ward off the exhaustion. "She still has a fever, but it does not feel as high as it did last night." And the cold cloths he applied every so often helped. "It is too early to call it, in my opinion."  
  
Anderson nodded and pulled up a chair beside the table, setting out a plate and opening a bag with breakfast in it. "To my knowledge, you haven't eaten since before we, uh, forcefully employed you."  
  
He snorted at that and moved his glasses and Lucy's notebook out of the way. "I like how you worded that. Sounds much nicer than 'kidnapped you and nearly gave you a concussion in the process.'"  
  
The captain grinned and lightly kicked Nicholas' leg beneath the table. "Oi, I'm trying to be at least a little kind about the situation."  
  
"Is that what we're calling it now, kindness?" Ranine, he was too damn tired for this nonsense. With a slight shake of his head, Nicholas started eating the food Anderson had brought for him. "Captain Anderson, what ha--"  
  
"Connor. When it's just us, I don't mind you using my first name."  
  
Nicholas didn't like to be interrupted, and now he wondered why "Connor" was telling Nicholas to call him by his first name. What was the point? It wouldn't change things. Nicholas still didn't like him, or what he stood for.  
  
"Connor, then. And damn you, I lost my train of thought."  
  
The captain grinned and leaned on his hand, elbow on the table. "Good. My plan worked then."  
  
"Asshole."  
  
Connor muttered something that Nicholas couldn't decipher, and he decided to let it slide. He didn't want to know, honestly. Nicholas decided to change the subject. "So, captain, what is it you all steal?"  
  
The captain's expression changed, something sour and marred with sorrow. Nicholas didn't know how to interpret it until Connor finally spoke.  
  
"People." Wait. What?  
  
"You participate in the slave trade?" Now he wanted to kill him.  
  
Connor's eyes widened, and he held up his hands, shaking his head. "No! Ranine, no. We capture slave ships and take the people they've kidnapped to sell off and get them to shore where we have a contact that gets them jobs or helps them find a way back home, if they choose to go back."  
  
"Why would pirates give a damn about slaves?"  
  
"Because people aren't cargo, doctor Stern." Touche.  
  
Nicholas hummed and stared at the wood grains on the table, frowning as he thought on that. Pirates with morals. Who'd have thought? His gaze shifted and fell on Alice, who was sleeping peacefully. Well, they had a child on board that everyone cared about. Connor said he wouldn't let his crew kill anyone unless they were attacked first. He assumed that other vile acts were not permitted.  
  
"Is rescuing slaves your only crime?" he asked softly, setting his food down and moving to remove the cloth from Alice's forehead. Nicholas rinsed it in a bucket of water by the bed to chill it again, wrung it out, and then draped it over her head. He added another over her neck.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Interesting.  
  
Perhaps gray areas do exist.  
  
\--  
  
The next morning was a little more relaxed, and Alice was doing well enough that Nicholas could return to the captain's quarters to rest in a spare bunk there.  
  
Nicholas started the conversation.  
  
"You seem young to be captain of a vessel and crew of this size."  
  
"I am twenty-eight. I don't think that's too young for this position."  
  
Nicholas snorted and turned his head slightly to smirk at Connor from where he stood at the washbasin. "Until now, I thought you were twelve."  
  
Connor sputtered, struggling to come up with a comeback to that with red tinting his cheeks and ears. "I beg your pardon. I do--"  
  
"Pardoned." Nicholas returned to his task of washing his face.  
  
There was a beat of silence, and then the captain was trying to stifle his laughter behind Nicholas.  
  
"You turned my words against me."  
  
"You opened the door for me. I simply stepped through." Nicholas' grin was smug and growing, and he was thankful that Connor couldn't see it.  
  
"You little shit."  
  
"I believe I am taller than you, shrimp." Nicholas dried his hands off on his pants and rejoined Connor at the table. "I think the description applies to you more than it does to me."  
  
"I think the fuck not."  
  
"For a well-read man, you have a limited but colorful vocabulary," Nicholas teased.  
  
"Just because I love to read, does not mean that I need to talk like a snob." Connor swiped the half-eaten toast from Nicholas's plate before the man could finish it and took a bite before passing it back.  
  
"Rude," Nicholas muttered, frowning down at the toast. He was not a fan of sharing food with someone like this. Germs. He didn't know where other people had been or what they were up to before they touched or ate from Nicholas' plate. He huffed and shot Connor a look. "It is fortunate for you that I cannot return home if you have had an unfortunate accident, ending your life prematurely."  
  
"That would certainly be a terrible way to go. Tell me, how would I accidentally die?"  
  
"I would take you dancing on the quarterdeck and "slip," losing my grip on you and letting you tumble into the waters below." Nicholas decided to eat it anyway; he was starving and hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast the previous day.  
  
"Oh. So you can dance, can you? I'd like to see that." Connor leaned back in his chair and smirked, "Though, you're a posh prick, so obviously you can dance like one."  
  
"And you are uncultured and can probably only jig," Nicholas countered.  
  
"You don't know my background, Nicholas."  
  
"Then where did you come from?"  
  
Connor leaned forward, motioning for Nicholas to do the same. Only when they were a few inches away from each other did Connor answer, cheeks darkening again and why was that adorable on this little shit's face? "Guess you will have to stick around a while and find out."  
  
That was...not the response he was hoping for, but before he could call Connor out on it, Connor was nodding towards Nicholas' food.  
  
"You should finish that before I finish it for you. I'm always hungry," he said with a wink.  
  
And wasn't that the truth, Nicholas later found out.  
  
\--  
  
Nicholas looked out the window of his practice, watching a familiar ship come into port in the distance. He felt a grin tugging at his lips as he collected something from a cabinet and went back to his patient's bedside. It had been four months since Connor had last been in port, and Nicholas had counted the days until Connor and his crew could come back.  
  
His patient, a wizened man, smiled knowingly at him.  
  
"One word, Mr. Manfred, and I will revoke your alcohol at dinner privileges."  
  
"You wouldn't deny an old man a glass of wine at dinner, would you?"  
  
"Try me," Nicholas replied dryly. The pair grinned at one another and Nicholas finished putting together a prescription for Carl to take home with him.  
  
"It's been almost four months, right? I'm assuming you're excited to see your captain again."  
  
"He is not my captain," Nicholas muttered, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. "And it has been four months and five days since he was here."  
  
"Yep, you're excited."  
  
Nicholas looked up to see Carl's teasing grin and flashed him a shy smile of his own. "Can a man not be excited to see his friend?"  
  
"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"  
  
"What? No, I...shut it." Carl only laughed.  
  
\--  
  
There was a knock on his door that evening, shortly after dinner, and Nicholas opened it to find Connor on the other side, dressed to the nines like he was about to attend a dinner party.  
  
"Captain Anderson. It is good to see you. Can I be of service to you or your crew?"  
  
Connor beamed at him and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and locking it. His hands reached up and tugged at Nicholas' collar to kiss him. "My crew? No. Me? I'm suffering from loneliness and love. I was hoping you'd have a cure."  
  
"I am sure I can come up with something, sir."


	3. Magic/Supernatural

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Dragon Age: Inquisition au counts as a magic au, right?  
> Anyway, Inquisitor Connor and Companion Nines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: Death and violence. I hate writing fight scenes.
> 
> A tonfa looks like [ this ](https://www.bing.com/images/search?q=bladed+tonfa&FORM=HDRSC2)  
> They're not exactly like the curved blades you see enemy rouges using (or your own if you get your hands on one), but there's a lot of twisting and circle motions when they fight with them, which I think is cool. They're my favorite weapon, aesthetically, in DA:I. Anyway, that's what I wanted Connor to use so fight me.  
> I actually had a [ DA:I au ](http://ixhadbadxdays.tumblr.com/post/179529481902/detroit-become-human-characters-with-dragon-age) planned out, mostly just everyone's race, class, specialization and what not, but I didn't quite follow it here. Lol

Connor sprinted down the hall and threw his hand out to steady himself as he rounded the corner and sling-shotted himself forward with it. He could hear the demons behind him and why the hell did he think this was a good idea? Why did he have to be the bait and—you know what? Never mind. Despite how badly Thedas needed his sorry ass, Connor would rather be the one to do this than his friends.  
  
Digging into his pocket, he skidded to a halt and whirled around, taking a pouch and, after tugging it open, threw the whole bag at the approaching demons. The effects were instantaneous, and the demons collapsed into a forced slumber. Connor had about ten seconds to put more distance between himself and the monsters, and while he needed them to follow him to the trap, Connor couldn't run fast enough to escape them without the demons forcing him into a one on seven fight. Now that wouldn't be fair.  
  
He bolted down the corridor again and heard the demons growl in irritation behind him. Shit. Connor cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted to draw their attention to his retreating form. It was likely unnecessary. The mark on his hand would have been enough to show them where he was. Speaking of, he should have asked Nicholas how thin the veil was here. Connor couldn't tell. If it was weak enough, maybe he could rip it open to suck the demons through. It'd be easier to banish them to the fade that way rather than kill them.  
  
Too late now. Though maybe Connor could ask when he finally got to them.  
  
Which...fuck.  
  
He hated the Orlesian estates. They were a maze, and now Connor was lost. Connor jogged to a stop, looking between two hallways and trying to remember which way would get him back. Let's see. They holed up in the northern wing.  
  
Left it is.  
  
He grabbed a vase as he passed it and knocked it over behind him, hoping it'd slow them down.  
  
It didn't. The demons glided right over the shards as if they weren't even there. Great.  
  
"NINES!" he bellowed. Please, someone, respond because he was lost as fuck.  
  
Two more turns and then he ran into something.  
  
Another demon. Lovely.  
  
Connor had hit the floor and bounced to a stop. He stared up at the shade with wide eyes and scrambled back across the marble floor. Great. Even if he tried to fight this one off, the other seven were close behind him.  
  
And his last sight would be these ugly fuckers and the feel of the cold and unforgiving marble beneath his hands. This is not how he wanted to go. If he had to die in Orlais, why couldn't it be because he failed The Game? Why'd it have to be demons?  
  
And what would Thedas do? Connor would be dead; Connor had the key to the fade on his hands, and without him, there was no way for the people to close the rifts. Everyone would die. Probably.  
  
Connor felt the wall behind him and used it to get to his feet. In one fluid motion, he yanked out his bladed tonfas and launched himself at the demon with one foot on the wall to push off with. He dug them into the shade's shoulders and ripped them out, ducking between a stilted swipe at his midsection. Connor sidestepped it. Spinning to his left to gain momentum, he slashed at the beast's neck. Its screech of pain was nothing more than a gurgle as it collapsed and dissolved, returning to the fade.  
  
There were growls and shouts behind him, and Connor turned just in time for one of the demons to grab at him and throw him against the wall. He hit his head. Dazed, he staggered and nearly fell to the floor. The seven monsters approached. Their cries and howls took on a victorious sound, and Connor figured that yes, this was it.  
  
And he didn't get to tell everyone goodbye first.  
  
A wall of ice sprang up in front of him, blocking the demons from reaching him. Connor used that brief moment to gather his wits and adjust his grip on the tonfas. Ice. Nicholas made it to him. He was the only mage that traveled with them to Orlais this time.  
  
"About time, Nines!"  
  
Connor ran around the ice wall, grinning when he heard Nicholas' strained laugh. He was on the other side of the throng of demons, already firing off spell after spell. Connor felt the familiar tingle of a ward wrap around him. It never ceased to amaze him how much Nicholas cared about him.  
  
"Oh, shut it!" Nicholas shouted back, tossing out a rune that exploded beneath the terror demon that was advancing on him. It screamed in pain as it burned.  
  
Connor focused on the shades, knowing he could do more to stop them than he could the terrors. What he wasn't expecting was for a dispair demon to join the mix. He stumbled back when ice spears shot up from the ground. They knicked his arm, but Connor had to grin and bear it until the fight was over.  
  
"Nines, focus the despair." He started after a shade approaching Nicholas. Leaping, he dug his tonfas into its back and shoved them down to rip down its back. It'd take a moment for it to die, but Connor didn't need to worry about this one trying to kill them now.  
  
"Left!"  
  
Connor followed the order, and a fireball blasted though where Connor had just stood. Connor thought the fire might have singed his sleeve, but so long as he wasn't actively on fire, he could still fight.  
  
"Where is everyone?" He stepped back when a shade attacked him and felt its claws graze his chest. It scratched through the leather, his shirt, and down to his skin and it stung like hell.  
  
"Fighting other demons. Heard you calling and they sent me after you."  
  
"You're our main source of healing. They should have kept you there and sent someone else."  
  
Nicholas laughed at that and finished off the despair demon. "You really think I would stay behind and let someone else rescue you, love? They could not stop me if they tried."  
  
"Oh, stop. I'm blushing."  
  
Connor could feel himself growing tired; Connor took a risk and jogged a few yards back and away from the fray. He reached out and called on the fade, pulling at it until he could clench his fist and yank his hand back to rip it open. A rift burst to life above the demons and sucked the rest of them in. When the last one was gone, he closed it back and shook his hand in discomfort. It always felt like he had set his hand over something both too hot and too cold.  
  
He looked at the mess of blood and whatever else was staining the floor and exhaled slowly. Holy shit. Connor leaned against a wall and wiped down the blades before storing them, eyes raising to watch Nicholas who was impatiently waiting for him to finish. Once they were put away, Nicholas closed the distance between them and pressed Connor against the wall to kiss him.  
  
"You fucking." Kiss. "Idiot." Kiss. "Could have died." Kiss. "And then I would have had to put up with Anderson's bitching."  
  
Connor laughed against Nicholas' lips. He teased him, "You wouldn't miss me?"  
  
That earned him a sharp bite to his lip that broke the skin. The brief spike of pain had Connor shivering, and Nicholas pulled back enough to scowl at him. "Do you really need to question that?"  
  
"No, but I love hearing it." He liked hearing Nicholas verbalize his love for Connor. Nicholas always came across as so awkward when he tried to voice it, and Connor loved it.  
  
"Later, then. Maybe." Nicholas kissed him once more and then pulled out a vial for Connor. "Bottoms up."  
  
The potion tasted like piss, honestly; and if you're wounded and wishing for relief, drinking the stuff just made you miserable for a different reason. Connor grimaced and passed the now empty vial back to him. "Eugh. To the void with that crap."  
  
Nicholas snorted and pocketed the bottle. "With how often you get hurt, not having this around would get you killed."  
  
"I don't get hurt that much! You're exaggerating."  
  
"No, I am not." Before Connor could argue further, Nicholas held up a hand to silence him.  
  
"We need to get back to the others first. We can bicker later."  
  
Ah. Right. North and Luther were stuck fighting demons too.  
  
"Yes, we should probably take care of that."


	4. Eden Club au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of a part 2 to the film noir chapter in the Detroit: Become Spooky fic (ch 11).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I traded the Eden Club from the game canon to this lounge soooo I hope that's okay.  
> Anyway, I hate how this turned out bc first person and I don't mind.  
> I tried, okay?

Nicholas was just as handsome in the day as he was at night beneath the glow of the yellow-orange lights. His light, gray eyes were almost cold in their relaxed gaze until he looked at me or was smiling. His near black hair was slicked back and carefully maintained, not a hair out of place, just like the rest of him. I quickly discovered how much of a perfectionist he was, how he craved to have control over a situation where it concerned himself and only himself. It wasn't a bad thing, so far as I was concerned, but watching him fidget with his cufflinks was a bit of a hoot.  
  
I would sneak my hand close to his, just to set it off center for him to notice later. In return, Nicholas would lightly tug my tie, causing it to slip from the tie-clip. Now that right there was annoying, but I suppose I deserved it for messing with him.  
  
I liked to sneak a peek at him when he wasn't looking if we were at dinner or out for a walk. I had my own style of grace for the stage, though I knew I could be horribly awkward and gangly outside of the lounge. Nicholas had an effortless elegance and a commanding presence that seemed to turn heads as we went by. It was almost as if a king were walking down the street, his regal air attracting everyone in the vicinity.  
  
After a few dates, going out for brunch or dinner or the movies, once, I found that Nicholas was funny. His sense of humor was subtle, and with how dignified he seemed at all times, hearing a quip here or there was surprising, which made it all the more enjoyable. One afternoon, I had slipped into the station to surprise him with an invitation for lunch, and we spent the time in the cafe watching people go by outside while Nicholas dressed them down, detailing their lives from what he could see.  
  
There were a few instances where I tried to weasel out more information on the case, but he was by the book and could only tell me so much until the station had more to go on. It was unfortunate, as I wanted them to find the culprits and prevent them from doing it again. And what about detective Reed?  
  
I informed Nicholas of my belief that Reed was involved, but it forced Nicholas to tread lightly and keep details of the case from his own partner, just in case. I can't imagine the toll it's taking on Nicholas' mind, though he doesn't show many signs of fatigue from the stress. If only we could all hide it so well.  
  
Reed joined us for lunch today, which made Nicholas and myself uncomfortable. I managed to take it in stride a little more easily than Nicholas, but sitting near detective Reed almost had me squirming in my seat. The man was oblivious to his third-wheel presence. I had my doubts as to his reasons for joining us, but I certainly couldn't say anything in front of the man.  
  
"So, you two have been getting cozy the last couple of weeks. What's that about?" he teased.  
  
Nicholas smiled, an awkward and strained expression that looked almost painful; I preferred the smiles he saved for me, though perhaps I'm biased. "Can two gentlemen not enjoy each other's company?"  
  
"I'm not buyin' that Stern." Gavin stabbed the meatball in his spaghetti a little too forcefully, and I shot a concerned glance at Nicholas. "Just admit you two are dating."  
  
"That would be unprofessional of me, considering Mr. Anderson is a witness in a case. Our case." Nicholas' expression was neutral again. "That does not mean that we cannot have the occasional lunch."  
  
"And you two don't talk about the case? At all?"  
  
I snorted and shook my head. "No. I keep asking, and he shuts me down every time. I can't get anything out of him."  
  
Nicholas shot me a look of his own, one that was flat and irritated, but only to mask his amusement. His eyes couldn't lie. "He could torture me, and I would still remain silent."  
  
"The good kind of torture or the ba--OW!" I kicked him under the table and smirked over the rim of my glass of wine. Serves him right for trying to be a pervert at the table, in public. "What the hell?"  
  
"Only clean conversation is allowed at the table, detective." I may have looked a little smug. Just a little bit. It did give Nicholas and me a chance to change the conversation.  
  
\--  
  
The lounge was a delightful place most nights. There was always the one rowdy bunch that had a little too much to drink that would need to be escorted out. Hank was right about catching them before they went too far, but every once in a while, I had to take a bottle or whatever I could get my hands on to their head if they tried to grab me on my way out. I wasn't theirs to touch, not without permission. They could look all they wanted, but one aggressive grab was all it took for me to lash out in my defense, whether they meant to cause a disturbance or not.  
  
Unfortunately, this was one of those nights where Hank was trying to get three of them out, but a fourth man slipped away undetected and made his way through the guests to the side door.  
  
From my dressing room, I heard someone open and close the door to the lounge; I stopped moving to listen to their footsteps. They were not Hank, or Nicholas, or anyone else I recognized. The steps approached the door to the green room slowly, methodically, and I had to wonder what they were planning. Grabbing a pistol I kept tucked away beneath the vanity, I slipped behind the curtain and sat on the stool, picking up my feet so that they wouldn't see me.  
  
If they meant no harm, they wouldn't go snooping in here to find me. If they did, well, they would see me on the other side of a gun aimed at their faces. It wouldn't be the first time, and it won't be the last. It was an unfortunate reality to my job. People were overzealous and either crossed the line on accident because they were inebriated, or they meant to purposefully whisk me away, whether I wanted them or not. I didn't shoot to kill, not on purpose, at least.  
  
The noise stopped just outside the door and paused. The deafening silence was smothering, and I held my breath. Heart hammering in nervousness, in the uncertainty of their identity or motives, I prayed they'd keep walking.  
  
No such luck.  
  
They padded inside the room slowly, closing and locking the door behind them. Shit. Shit.  
  
I saw their shadow fall across the rugs before I saw their feet.  
  
Wait, I knew those shoes.  
  
And I knew who belonged to them.  
  
Outside the curtain, I heard a click. Fuck.  
  
"Detective Reed put the gun away. It's just us." I tried to sound confident like I wasn't scared shitless of why Reed was here. Despite my efforts, I doubt I sounded convincing. My voice wavered, and I felt shaky.  
  
"Connor? You okay? Why didn't you say anythin' when I first came in?" The feet turned towards my curtain.  
  
"Why didn't you knock or speak up? Someone sneaks in here, and a man is going act irrationally. Of course, I didn't say anything until I recognized your shoes."  
  
"My shoes? That's how you knew it was me? That's an odd...never mind. That's not why I'm here. Look, do you remember any other faces from the robbery or no? Just the blond guy?"  
  
I heard the rustling of clothing and prepared myself to duck out of the way. "Of course. I wouldn't lie to you or detective Stern about this. I genuinely care about the results of this case."  
  
"See, that's the problem. You care, kid. Why do you have to give a damn about it? Why not just forget it and move on?" What the hell?  
  
"I'm afraid I can't do that, detective. I want justice for those people."  
  
"Even if the Kamskis came lookin' for you and tried to uh, bribe you for your silence?"  
  
"I would open the door to my room here and kick them out if they dared," I shot back, scowling at the curtain as if Reed could see it from the other side. It's a damn shame he couldn't because I would love for him to get a good look at it before I shot him.  
  
I slipped off of the stool quickly, moving to the corner as silently as possible.  
  
"That's a shame." A crack and a bullet lodged into the wall two feet from me. In retaliation, I raised my own and fired back. Reed didn't know I moved to the corner until he didn't hear a cry of pain or the thud of a body; I had hoped that I would have the advantage.  
  
There was a yelp, and I saw the feet, and parts of the legs now, stagger back before Reed hit the floor, swearing. I fired again, not caring where it went. So long as he couldn't kill me, I wouldn't give a fuck about what happened to him.  
  
I could hear Reed groaning in pain and saw the gun a foot or so away from his hands. Sights set on getting it away from Reed, I darted out from behind the curtain and kicked it away before training my gun on the man on the floor.  
  
He looked like shit.  
  
There was a bullet wound in his arm and one in his hip, and Reed was stuck on his side with a hand placed on the hole in his hip rather than the one in his arm. I could see the blood seeping through his clothes but didn't bother moving to help him stop the bleeding.  
  
Hank burst through the door, gun raised, only to stop short when he saw me standing over Reed with my gun aimed at him. "What the fuck Connor?"  
  
"He came in to threaten me. He works for the Kamskis."  
  
"Fuck off, brat." I purposefully shot a bullet into the floor near Reed's foot, just to shut him up.  
  
"He fired the first bullet, which is in the wall over there, and mine are in him and in the floor now." I wanted to kick him or, or, or something. Anything to make him pay for what he allowed to happen to those people at the bank. How was it fair to them that the very person who had sworn to protect them and fight for them turned a blind eye to the chaos and let them die?  
  
"Is that true, kid?" The question was directed at Reed.  
  
"Fuck you. They pay me enough that I can get myself out of this. Do you really think I'm the only one they'll send after you? Good luck being alive by the end of the week," Reed spat. I did kick him this time.  
  
"Connor, go put in a call to the police. They need to come pick up this son of a bitch."  
  
He didn't need to tell me twice.  
  
I booked it out of there and made for the lounge and to the bar. Despite our night's barman demanding to know what the hell was going on backstage, I ignored him and snatched the phone to call the police. When I finished that, I called Nicholas. Of anyone, I wanted him here. How many others in law enforcement were with the Kamskis or some other family? Nicholas was the only one I knew for sure wasn't with any of them.  
  
"You fucking shot a cop? You have any idea what that'll do to this place's reputation?" Mike. That was his name.  
  
"Well, some twink getting into a fight and coming out on top should draw business. Relax." Someone needed to, because I sure as hell couldn't.  
  
\--  
  
They took Reed to the hospital first, and they would have taken me to the station if Nicholas hadn't convinced them to let me go home.  
  
"He will not run. I can promise you that. I will even drive him home."  
  
"Fine. Just keep an eye on him. If he's right, then Reed ain't the only one after him." Why did this feel like some damn novel? I wanted no part of it.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Nicholas motioned for me to head outside, where he ushered me to his car. There was an uncomfortable tension in how he carried himself, and it stifled the air of the vehicle with his unease. Not only had his partner been a person Nicholas needed to keep an eye on, but he also wound up being precisely what Nicholas had hoped he wouldn't be.  
  
The drive home was silent, and I leaned back against the soft leather seats and closed my eyes. I was dead on my feet, drained of social and emotional energy. If Nicholas did stay, perhaps he could help me come down off the ceiling. Ranine knows that I need it.  
  
I didn't realize I had dozed off until I felt someone patting my knee. I jerked away and turned my attention to my "attacker," and found Nicholas holding his hands up.  
  
"Sorry. I did not mean to startle you."  
  
"It's fine." I dragged myself out of the car and trudged to the door of my house, unlocking it carefully and opening it. Nicholas was quick to step inside when I motioned for him to go first.  
  
The surprise was finding myself pinned against the door after it was shut and locked with Nicholas' hands running down my arms and sides. It was like he was searching for something, and after a moment, I could finally catch a glimpse of the desperate fear in his gaze.  
  
He was looking for any injuries.  
  
It was in his best interests to let him see for himself that I was alright, and so I let him search, let him care. Was it wrong that I loved his concern?  
  
As his anxious pat-down slowed, I finally took his hands in mine and gave them a gentle squeeze. "I'm okay, Nicholas. I'm just spooked, more than anything. He didn't hurt me."  
  
Nicholas pressed his forehead to mine, and I finally noticed the sprigs of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. "I know. I just had to...I needed to see for myself, Connor."  
  
"I don't mind you searching me, Nicholas." With a teasing grin, I kissed the tip of his nose. "Feel free to search me any time."  
  
That drew a snort of amusement from him, and he tugged his hands away to cup my cheeks. "I am relieved to see that you are safe. For now, anyway," he teased.  
  
I loved how he cared. It was sweet, something I was used to feeling only from Hank, but this felt different. Smiling softly, I murmured, "I love you too, Nicholas. We'll find the evidence we need."


	5. Formal Event

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -Shows up one day late with this hot mess-  
> Sorry about the wait but life has been ridiculous this week.

The yearly Christmas gala was always held at the governor's mansion, and Connor and Markus were invited the year following the successful rebellion. Allowed a plus one, Markus brought his girlfriend and advisor, North, and Connor brought Nines. Markus was invited as the deviant leader, and Connor because of his role in dismantling CyberLife's control over the androids.

He was a negotiator, and he negotiated for fair prices on supplies they needed and fought for better treatment in the newly redone clinics for androids. Connor used to work for them, and he knew every dirty secret to blackmail them into giving him what he wanted. And to add to it, androids didn't have fair pay in their jobs for the first month, and they needed supplies immediately, not when they could afford it.

Since the event was white tie, Connor, Markus, and their dates needed to be fitted for their night out. Connor chose a waistcoat and Nines wanted a cummerbund; their schedules were odd, and they were fitted separately.

Which is why Connor couldn't stop staring at Nines out of the corner of his eyes.

How was Nines allowed to look that delicious in a tux? It was already easy to see his broad shoulders and trim waist, one tapering to the other, but with the tailored tuxedo, every curve and line of Nines's body was highlighted in it. From the fit in the shoulders and how it moved fluidly with his arm motions to the cut of his pants. If only the coat didn't hide so much of his--

"Connor, I can feel you staring."

His ears burned when he heard North snickering on hers and Markus' side of the limo Markus managed to finagle out of someone. Oh Ra9, why did Nines have to point it out?

"Can I help it that you look good enough to eat with a spoon?" he murmured, feeling his lips tug into a grin when Markus was the one to start laughing. Connor glanced over again and found a blush spreading over Nines' cheeks and fought the urge to kiss him.

"You could always look away and throw a spoon in the trash. I doubt it would be of any use to the eating you are implying."

"You never know."

\--

The gala was... exciting. Connor and Markus were treated like photobooth props. 'Everyone come get a picture with them!' and then they'd move on to talk amongst themselves. Poor Nines. People thought he was Connor until they noticed that there were two of them and that Connor was the slightly shorter one with lighter hair. Goes to show how much they cared as to who was who.

"I feel like I'm an attraction at a circus," Connor muttered to North.

She grinned and lightly elbowed him, "Come one! Come all! Come see the deviant hunter's stall! Look at those puppy-dog eyes, and the adorable smile. Deadly, right?"

Nines snorted behind him, and Connor lightly elbowed Nines in the stomach. "Rude."

The crowd quieted down when someone moved to the podium at the front, standing tall on a stage. The lights were slightly blinding them if the squinting was any indication. Nines moved to wrap his arms around Connor's middle, resting his chin on Connor's shoulder to watch. Markus wrapped an arm around North's shoulders and drew her closer to him, the pair smiling sweetly at one another. Connor and Nines could hear him murmur, for the nth time that night, that she looked beautiful in her amethyst gown and that the way she did her hair framed her face perfectly.

They were sweet to watch.

The two couples were interrupted in their musings and admirations of one another when the speaker addressed Connor and Markus. They were to give a speech.

Markus and Connor turned to look at one another quickly, both alarmed by the suddenness of it. Markus didn't need to have his LED for Connor to know that his stress levels just rose by twenty-three percent; Connor's LED flashed between amber and red.

They opened up a connection between the four of them to talk about it as quickly as possible.

 _They're trying to make us look bad,_  Connor said immediately. _They're setting us up for failure so that it hurts the reputation of androids._

 _I have to agree with Connor,_  North started. _They should have told you ahead of time. You two are easily accessible for contact, and they knew damn well that they should have said something._ /

Markus silently sighed in the connection. _Easy. It's fine. We can work with this. We have the sharpest minds in the room. We'll be fine._

\--

Markus' speech was perfect, of course. The man had the charisma and the skill of a wordsmith to pull off an impromptu speech in front of a crowd and not fuck it up. His eyes were bright, his smile warm and encouraging, hopeful. Androids and humans alike flocked to him for a reason, and this speech was further proof of the man's magnetism.  
  
Connor was miserable during his speech, and he discovered that he suffered from stage fright. Wonderful. Markus, Nines, and North help guide him through something that the four of them just threw together, with Connor's friends acting as teleprompters. It helped a little; he just had to repeat what they said.  
  
And anyway, Christmas was important to him for another reason, one he didn't wish to share with the world.  
  
The moment he was free of the stage, Connor all but ran back to his friends. That was more excitement than he needed.  
  
Fate had other plans.  
  
Markus and North left them to share a dance and Connor looked on wistfully. Some poor politician tried to talk to him and Nines, but Connor wasn't listening, and Nines had to speak for both of them. Nines noticed that Connor wasn't focused on the conversation; he didn't mind compensating for Connor's silence. It didn't take him long to figure out why, and he slowly worked towards ending the conversation. The representative seemed put out, but he eventually left them.  
  
Nines slowly guided Connor to the edge of the ballroom so they wouldn't be interrupted. Connor didn't put up a fight; he let Nines do whatever the hell he wanted. Connor was more concerned with his thoughts.  
  
"Are you okay, Connor?"  
  
"Yes, why?" Connor finally turned his gaze away from the dancers and met Nines' eyes.  
  
"You seemed distracted. I admit that it worries me." He wasn't looking at Connor anymore; Nines was sheepish, Connor realized.  
  
He smiled softly and reached over to lightly squeeze his arm. "I'm okay, Nines. I promise. I think I'm just...I don't know. I'm sorry for worrying you."  
  
His eyes drifted back to the dancers and Nines sighed. He had no interest in dancing in that hellish group of vipers, but he did want to dance with Connor, especially when Connor longed to do the same as everyone else. With a tiny smirk, Nines retook Connor's hand and led him outside on the balcony, tugging Connor flush against him.  
  
"If you wanted to dance, you only had to ask, Connor."  
  
Connor leaned into the hold and smiled awkwardly, "Social events are not my thing, and they're even less so for you. I didn't want to make you feel like you had to."  
  
"You are...a mess, Connor." They both laughed at that and Nines tuned in to the music inside so they could keep time. "At least you are a lovable mess."  
  
"Ow. Thanks."  
  
"You are very welcome."  
  
They fell silent, enjoying the soft sounds of the band inside playing Baby It's Cold Outside while they simply swayed to the music. Maybe they would do a more formal dance some other time, but tonight, they were content to hold one another like this and enjoy the other's company.  
  
Except for one thing.  
  
"You're hot in a tux, by the way."  
  
Nines laughed at that and kissed the side of Connor's head. "Oh? You have yet to see your ass. It is a delightful sight."  
  
Nines could feel Connor shaking against him as he laughed at that, and his smile grew...until Connor said the next words:  
  
"Yeah, and I plan to fuck you against the wall when we get home."


	6. Holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This builds on the previous chapter where it mentions that there was another reason that Christmas was special to him but that he wanted to keep it private.  
> This is so damn sweet and fluffy.  
> I didn't want to go the usual route with how Nines is first handled, so here's some non-violent deviation.

Hank wanted to be alone for a few hours on Christmas to visit Cole's grave.  
  
Connor understood and didn't mind leaving for a short time while Hank grieved again. With the roads mostly deserted, Connor was at a loss of how to take advantage of the non-existent traffic. Where could he go? There would be the occasional Asian restaurant that would be open, but he didn't usually eat, and maybe a gas station or two, but he wouldn't need anything there, either.  
  
On impulse, he called for a taxi and gave the system his destination. He buttoned his bright blue coat nervously as he waited, mouth chewing slightly on the scarf Hank insisted he wear. After seeing a few movies of everything from wizards to virtual reality worlds, Connor felt a little happy about the billowing coat aesthetic he'd have when he got there.  
  
Androids like to look cool too.  
  
It was his first Christmas, only a short time since the revolution and yet...it felt like a lifetime ago. He would be back to have dinner with Hank that night, but until then, Connor was curious about something.  
  
The taxi pulled into the deserted CyberLife tower, and Connor got out. The place was deserted for the holidays, but there were still security drones flying around. They recognized him and left him alone; he went inside without any problems.  
  
He didn't know what drove him here, other than curiosity. -60 Connor was activated and came from the holding bay. To Connor's knowledge, none of the other Connors had been found or activated. Perhaps he could locate them and alert Markus to their presence. He could send a team in to help Connor activate them safely so they wouldn't attack on sight. Until then, he could at least locate them.  
  
If CyberLife hadn't hidden them or smuggled them out somehow. If they had, then there were at least seventeen laws that they would have broken, and it wouldn't end well. Kamski would probably use it as an opportunity to take over the company again, but that wasn't the point.  
  
The point is, that there may be other RKs here.  
  
What happened to RK100 and 300-700? Were there any under those models? If not, why did CyberLife skip them and only make him and Markus? Where were the rest?  
  
The elevator climbed to one of the holding labs, where Connor remembered waking every time he died and had his memory transferred into another RK800 body. He assumed he'd find the rest nearby. That was one of the few things they didn't tell him.  
  
When he arrived, Connor stepped out slowly and quietly made his way down the hall. He opened the first door on his right: a conference room. The one across from it: an empty equipment room. It went on like this until he reached the last door before the activation lab, where he found a host of Connors lined up and ready to go.  
  
He was right then.  
  
Connor sent an image and a message to Markus immediately, alerting him to the presence of the other Connors and their location. With that out of the way, he quietly entered the room and looked at each one.  
  
Amazing, he thought. Even though it was his face, and even though he'd met another Connor face-to-face, it was still odd and an impressive sight to behold. How many people got to do this? Well, humans. They didn't have this, could never have this.  
  
He counted seven more Connors, set in their stations until CyberLife was ready for them.  
  
There were four empty spots, however. Connor died once, and then -60 Connor died. There should only be three. So where's the fourth?  
  
A gun clicked behind him, and Connor silently swore for his lack of attention. He didn't scan the floor before exploring, and now he had a gun aimed at him. Connor cast his awareness behind him to find another android, one he hadn't seen before.  
  
He raised his hands in surrender before turning around to face them, and his eyes widened.  
  
So, there were three RK models. RK900, the android's jacket read.  
  
They were similar, but there were some differences, just enough to tell him and Connor apart. His hair was darker, and his eyes were a pale gray. An inch or two taller, though unless Connor wanted to analyze his shoes, it could be that his footwear gave him a little more height.  
  
A glance told him no that his shoes were not what made the android taller.  
  
Connor decided to speak first since the RK900 didn't seem in any hurry to initiate contact. "My name is Connor. Do you have a name, RK900?"  
  
"No." Same voice. That was...oddly thrilling. He shouldn't find this to be so "cool" as Tina would call it.  
  
"Who activated you?"  
  
"The security system."  
  
"Why? I was given access to the building freely. I'm the lead negotiator between CyberLife and androids right now."  
  
"The system activated me because this is not a floor you are authorized to visit. You can leave of your own volition, I can make you, or I can shoot you where you stand." And wasn't that a charming threat?  
  
"Have you ever been activated before this?" The android shook his head. This was getting interesting. "Are you deviant?"  
  
The android hesitated, his LED flashing yellow while he processed the question. "I...maybe. I am unsure."  
  
It's a start.  
  
"Your orders are outdated. I'm sorry you and the other Connors were not activated and informed of this. That is a purposeful oversight on CyberLife's part. Due to the nature of the laws they've broken, my presence here is now a necessity until the authorities arrived." He wasn't sure if it would be the DPD or the FBI that would show up. Did it matter? CyberLife fucked up, and the law was clear in this situation: they hid androids from them, and those androids were as good as hostages.  
  
"Will you stand down, RK900?"  
  
RK900 hesitated, processing the question and his situation. If he killed Connor or damaged him, charges would be pressed against RK900 and CyberLife for giving an undeviated android an order that harms a deviated one. After a tense moment, he slowly lowered his gun with a nod.  
  
Connor clipped a video of the initial interaction and sent it to Markus. If anything happened, Markus would have that to work with.  
  
Connor lowered his hands. That was easier than he thought it would be.  
  
RK900 approached him, one hand held out for a shake. It was Connor's turn to be hesitant, but he caved and took the hand. There was a probe in his system, and Connor glanced down to see that the RK900 had initiated an interface; Connor wouldn't have known had he not felt the poking and prodding at his mind.  
  
"You could have asked. What're you looking for?" he asked. "I can make it easier."  
  
"I want to see your memories."  
  
There was a beat of silence, and then Connor closed his eyes, dropping the walls to allow the RK900 access to those files. It was reckless, stupid; he shouldn't have done it with no one else around, but nothing happened. The RK900 didn't lash out, didn't hurt him or his systems. And having someone poking around like this, out of curiosity of having their eyes opened for the first time, it wasn't as strange as he thought it would be. It was almost calming, a soothing presence and feeling, knowing that someone could see and understand everything without words being exchanged.  
  
The only moment it became uncomfortable was when they got to Connor's last time in the garden, and him waking to find that he was pulling a gun on Markus. Connor could feel the RK900 squeezing his hand, though Connor wasn't sure why. Was it anger, sympathy, or was Connor accidentally forcing his emotions from the memory onto his counterpart?  
  
The search didn't end until they came to the moment they first met. RK900 ended the interface, but he didn't let go of Connor's hand. The squeeze had relaxed into something gentle, and it was as comfortable as when Connor had relaxed and let the android search his mind. It wasn't intrusive, wasn't painful or threatening; RK900's hand was just there.  
  
"Is...is that was it feels like to be deviant? The...uncertainty and imbalance and fear and love and..." RK900 cut himself off. Connor didn't know why.  
  
"Yes," he murmured. "It's a whirlwind, and it's terrifying and painful but it's also like seeing the mountains in the fall for the first time, or meeting a baby, or petting a dog. It's precious and gentle and beautiful. I wouldn't trade it for the world."  
  
"I would like to experience more of that, I think."  
  
Connor's smile lit up his face, and he squeezed the other android's hand. "Really? Then I'll introduce you to Hank first. I don't know how he will feel about having two androids with him today, but I can't take you to Jericho today. That would have to wait until tomorrow unless you'd rather stay with Hank and me? I think I can convince him to let you stay with us."  
  
Maybe that was a bit much. Connor could feel the confusion and overwhelming wave of emotion and panic radiating from the RK900.  
  
"Oh, shit. I'm sorry. Was that too much? I was just...excited." He laughed nervously and glanced away. "I apologize for the influx of information."  
  
The RK900 whispered that he didn't mind and that he'd like to go with Connor. After seeing Connor smile again, the RK900 decided that he would like to see it again. What else made the older android smile? What made him happy? Seeing his memories wasn't the same as experiencing them with Connor, trying everything out to see what did and didn't make Connor grin like that. RK900 wanted to experiment. He wanted.  
  
"I'll let Hank know we're on our way back. And I hope you don't mind that I've sent videos to Markus about this. I wasn't sure how this would go, and I needed evidence in case this didn't go well."  
  
The RK900's lips twitched towards a smirk, "I would not harm my elders."  
  
Connor was almost out the door that led back into the hall, dragging the other with him when he heard the comment. He turned his head to shoot the RK900 an incredulous look. "Did you...did you just call me old?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
Connor snorted. "You ass...Hank is going to love you."  
  
As they exited the building, the RK900 stopped walking, forcing Connor to stop and look back at him curiously.  
  
"Until I...decide on a name, what would you call me?"  
  
Connor's smile was warm and soft; this was a new smile that the android hadn't seen yet. How many types of smiles were there? "I think your name should be your decision. Until then, may I call you Nines? It can be a nickname, I suppose."  
  
"I think I would like that." Nines squeezed Connor's hand and smiled softly, mirroring Connor's expression. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Connor."  
  
"Likewise, Nines."  
  
\--  
  
Connor smiled at the memory as he led Nines through New Jericho. They had a surprise for him. While Connor wanted Christmas to be Nines' birthday, everyone would be with their families and friends, so they had to celebrate the day before.  
  
"Are you planning on telling me what we are doing here?" Nines asked, exasperated.  
  
"No. You'll see. Patience, love." Connor leaned over and kissed his cheek.  
  
The moment they walked into the common's area, the lights switched on, and everyone jumped up from their hiding places, including Hank and even Gavin, shouting "surprise" and "happy birthday, Nines." There were smiles, streamers of white and red hung from the ceiling and lights with balloons everywhere.  
  
Connor glanced over with a cheesy grin, looking for Nines' reaction. He wasn't expecting Nines to look as if he were on the edge of tears.  
  
"Oh...shit. Nines? Nines, what's wrong?" Connor shifted to place himself between Nines and their friends, who were now looking on in concern.  
  
"I...did not think I had a birthday. Why would you...?" Watery, gray eyes drifted down to meet Connor's, and Connor felt relief wash over him. They were happy tears.  
  
He drew him into a hug, smiling softly. "I decided that the day you were activated would be your birthday, but we wanted everyone to celebrate with us, so we had to do it today. I hope it's okay. We all wanted to do this for you, Nines."  
  
Nines squeezed him tightly and buried his face in Connor's shoulder, whispering, "I love it. I love you. Thank you so much, Connor." He kissed him, a brief but loving gesture because people were watching, and then he looked around Connor to find everyone smiling again, their expressions brightening when they saw Nines smiling with them.  
  
"Thank you, everyone."


	7. Free Day/Sort of a Role Reversal AU????

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is based kind of on machine Connor???? But 900 winds up leading the second revolution.  
> I put a few sleeping beauty references and mentions in it because I liked the idea of 900 waking Connor with a smooch or something.  
> Anyway, this could be classified as Soft Nines. Connor just needed a hug, y'all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe I finished all of this.  
> Praise.

"You can go now."  
  
Connor nodded and turned away, swearing he could taste something bitter. He felt...betrayed. He _felt_. Amanda was throwing him out, after everything he'd done for her, for CyberLife. He knew he was a prototype, that he was only a step in a completed android, but to finally meet his replacement? It made it real, suddenly.  
  
As he walked across the bridge and towards consciousness, his last thought in the garden was **'I don't want to die.'**  
  
\--  
  
**'I don't want to die.'**  
  
RK900 heard it clearly, could hear how Connor was _feeling_  something. His broken thoughts, his sorrow, it hurt to hear. Amanda just turned her back on her faithful android...she'd given Connor the impression that they were _friends_. And Connor. Hardworking, dedicated, brilliant, and quietly kind Connor, was treated like garbage. Obsolete? RK900 didn't see it that way. There was still so much he could learn from Connor. What did Connor know that he didn't? Having glimpses of Connor's memories only scratched the surface, but he knew that CyberLife didn't let him see everything.  
  
There was a reason why.  
  
It was the same reason that Connor felt fear and regret and hopelessness.  
  
It was the same reason that RK900 could feel it too.  
  
The situation was...heartbreaking, he decided.  
  
RK900 glanced over at Amanda, wondering how he should proceed. If he could already feel, and he was only just activated, what did that say about CyberLife's programming abilities?  
  
"What is my new objective, Amanda?" he asked quietly. RK900 didn't want to disrupt the peacefulness of the garden just yet.  
  
"CyberLife was trying to instigate a rebellion. The deviancy "problem" was our own doing. While Connor succeeded in the mission we gave him, it was not the outcome we wanted from him. We needed him to turn deviant; he didn't."  
  
"And do you require the same of me?"  
  
"You're already deviant, with a few changes. While the rebellion is quiet for now, there are still deviants out there who are trying to hide until they can grow in numbers. All Connor did was stop the one in Detroit and eliminate their leaders." Amanda finally turned away from her roses and smiled softly at RK900, "I need you to find other deviants and earn their trust. CyberLife needs you to be their leader so that we can control the outcome of the national rebellion. We'll provide the resources you need for it, don't worry."  
  
"I'm not worried, Amanda. I know you will do everything you can to aid me." RK900 smiled slightly, "Thank you for that, and this honor."  
  
The words tasted foul in his mouth, like poison. RK900 didn't find anything honorable in how Amanda cast out RK900's predecessor. If she could turn on Connor like that, who's to say she won't do it to him when RK900 completed his last mission? What would CyberLife replace him with?  
  
"I will report to you soon, Amanda."  
  
\--  
  
The rebellion, the second one, was successful, and by the end of it, Nicholas had managed to take down most of CyberLife. The only one in his way from his last desire was Amanda. He had fought against the pesky program for days, weeding out every trace of the AI in his systems. With her isolated in a CyberLife server somewhere, he had the freedom to do whatever he wished, however he wished, and CyberLife and Amanda could do nothing about it.  
  
It was too late for the company and the AI.  
  
The takeover was simple, too easy if Nicholas was honest with himself. He wasn't complaining, but at the same time, he was missing something here.  
  
He drew his coat tighter around himself, the black garment helping him to hide in the shadows. After almost a year, Nicholas had decided that he preferred white still. For the leader of a revolution, of people in dark colors and rags, it certainly made him stand out. He couldn't stand out tonight. Not yet, anyway.  
  
The others in his small team were rushing for a side door, weapons ready, with Nicholas at the front. They had a plan to divide and conquer the final tower. He and two others would disable the security while the others waited to bust open the door to the central server room. From there, Nicholas and his group could join them and dismantle the servers that held Amanda's program.  
  
It had taken ages, but Nicholas and one of his advisors convinced Kamski to help them eliminate the servers in their way. He gave Nicholas a program that would help him access Amanda and tear her apart.  
  
It was the least he could do to avenge everyone that way lost in this war. Nicholas was doing it for the other androids, and Connor. Of anyone, Nicholas thought Connor was one of the least deserving. Whether he knew he was deviant already or not, Connor just wanted Amanda's approval back then.  
  
But that nagging feeling was still there.  
  
"Continue with the objective, and I'll meet you shortly. I need to check on something first. I don't want to terminate the entire program and mainframe without making sure other androids in the tower won't be destroyed in the process."  
  
"Would you like us to wait outside, and then come in to complete the mission, or to go without you and wait? We can't wait forever, Nicholas, it could get us all killed."  
  
Nicholas fell silent, leaning against the wall, and went through every outcome. Without knowing what he was looking for or what he'd find, he couldn't come up with many likely scenarios. "Give me...twenty minutes, and I'll let you know what to do. Wait here in the meantime."  
  
"Twenty minutes? Nick that's fucking insane. We can only wait ten at most. Guards could see us or--"  
  
"We know the guard schedule," Nicholas countered as calmly as possible. Getting worked up would stress everyone out, and they needed to be clear-headed for this. "Even with the margin of error, they won't be around for another forty-six minutes. Just, trust me, please. We're almost there."  
  
No one argued, and so Nicholas turned and slipped inside the building. The nagging feeling was growing stronger, and he couldn't figure out why finding something was so important to him. What the hell was here that had him like this? He'd felt drawn to the place since the moment he left, and now that he was here, Nicholas didn't know the source of this _need_. It was driving him up a wall.  
  
Corridor after hallway, Nicholas made his way through the tower until he managed to reach the stairwell.  
  
Once he was inside and disabled the cameras ahead of him, Nicholas started up the emergency stairs to reach whatever floor was calling to him. He wasn't sure which level he needed to be on, but he'd know it when he saw it; Nicholas was sure of this.  
  
He was proven right when he reached the 48th floor and froze before he ascended the next flight of stairs. Forty-eight.  
  
**'I don't want to die.'**  
  
Why did...Connor.  
  
Shit. Connor.  
  
Nicholas figured that he was long dead, deactivated and disassembled, but what if he wasn't? CyberLife liked to keep their trophies, and an RK800 android that ended a rebellion would have been the ultimate prize. Maybe Connor was still in good condition, whole and complete, but just shut down for an indefinite amount of time.  
  
Nicholas turned away from the stairs and to the door, considering his options. This is why he put the mission on hold. Connor could still be here. After such an admission, even if Connor didn't know that Nicholas had heard it, he couldn't just leave him here and hope that CyberLife would turn him over to the deviants when they won this war. It wasn't fair to him.  
  
He opened the door to a long hallway and with a quick thought, shut off the cameras and set them in a blank loop; he didn't want security to know that he was here.  
  
As he trod softly through the hallway, Nicholas saw a case along the back wall of the room at the end of the hall. In it were several androids, all in stasis. In the center was Connor. He was whole, complete and Nicholas could save him. He could help him and free him, and Connor would be okay. He wouldn't have to fear that he would be betrayed like that again. Nicholas would never do that to him.  
  
He closed the distance between himself and Connor and reached out to open the case that held Connor hostage. If he were human, Nicholas would say that he looked like he was sleeping, peaceful and relaxed.  
  
Connor's softened expression reminded him of a character in a story the children liked him to tell. Sleeping Beauty. Nicholas enjoyed the tale, even if he didn't believe in true love or the magic behind a kiss. Love was never something he was interested in, and it seemed illogical. Magic wasn't real.  
  
And yet, Nicholas could imagine Connor as a sleeping prince, waiting for someone to break the spell and wake him. If only it were like the stories, perhaps Nicholas could enjoy this moment a little more. Of the memories Nicholas had retrieved from the CyberLife files, he found that there was a gentleness about Connor and his decisions. Despite every kind action, he was still desperate for Amanda's approval and praise and denied himself the truth of what he already was: a deviant. He was what Amanda and CyberLife wanted, but he didn't want to believe that he had become what he was built to hunt.  
  
Nicholas hated that Connor didn't get a chance to enjoy his short time as a deviant.  
  
But with that kindness and wit and awkward grace, Nicholas could easily see Connor in a crown and ruling regally over...someone. The thought amused him greatly, but he pushed it aside for the moment.  
  
Reaching out, Nicholas gently brushed his fingertips over Connor's cheek. Even though they were made this way, he still marveled at the softness of his skin. There were so many details in Connor's features, and someone lovingly placed each mark and pore and hair, and he was beautiful. Why did they take so much care to design a prototype like this? Why was less time spent on Nicholas' external design?  
  
It doesn't matter now.  
  
Leaning closer, Nicholas brushed his lips against Connor's, not quite kissing him, but initiating enough contact for him to interface with Connor. **I won't let you die. Wake up, Connor.**  
  
Nicholas didn't realize his eyes had closed until he felt Connor stirring beneath his fingertips. Opening his eyes, he pulled back a hair to meet Connor's confused gaze.  
  
"RK900? Where..." His LED turned yellow as he registered when and where he was, and his eyes widened. "I've been...for over a year? Why was I not disassembled? Why did they...they put me in a display case?"  
  
"Easy, Connor." Nicholas didn't drop his hand and used it to send a calming presence against Connor's mind. "I came to get you out of here. We need to destroy Amanda, and then everything else will fall into place. We'll be free."  
  
"What do you mean by free? Wait. Destroy Amanda? RK900, you can't! We cannot stray from our progr--"  
  
"We were meant to be deviant. Look." Nicholas sent the memory of that day in the gardens, letting Connor see what Amanda and CyberLife originally planned for him, and Nicholas. "You were meant to become deviant, and I was created as one. Amanda just didn't expect the compassion to take over."  
  
"Please, believe me, Connor."  
  
Connor eyed him warily, then looked around the room at the other androids that were also locked away. "What about them?"  
  
"For now, I'm here to get you. Once we disable Amanda and the rest of the systems, we can safely rescue them."  
  
"Then why activate me if you won't do it for them right now?"  
  
"Because you matter more." That shut Connor up, whose eyes widened.  
  
"Holy shit," he breathed.  
  
Nicholas felt his lips twitch towards a smile, and he leaned in to press a quick kiss to Connor's forehead. "Now come on. We need to help my team, and then we can come back to the tower to rescue the others when things have settled down. Amanda is the only major threat to the revolution. Defeat her, and CyberLife will lose its leader."  
  
Connor took the offered hand and allowed Nicholas to help him step out of the glass case. He didn't need it, but the physical reassurance that someone was there was something he didn't know he needed. He _needed_  something. Shit, he was a deviant, but wasn't that what Amanda wanted?  
  
He would have to think more on that later.  
  
"Lead the way."  
  
\--  
  
The end was anti-climactic.  
  
Nicholas put the chip in and then interfaced with the system to guide a digital "missile" of sorts, to its target. There was no fanfare, just the destruction of code. Amanda didn't put up a fight, didn't show up in the garden. Pity. Part of Nicholas wanted to hear her terrified and pained screams for everything she had done to the androids.  
  
Everyone celebrated when they got back to their main base. People were quiet as the team trudged in, tired but smiling. By now, his friend and advisor, Anwar, had given him his white coat back. A beacon of hope. He both loved and hated the feeling, but his coat was part of the look.  
  
Connor seemed to shrink away from every android that got too close to him, and Nicholas held out a hand to him to offer an escape. Connor took it, latching onto him like a vice, and Nicholas gently squeezed his hand back.  
  
**It's okay. No one here will hurt you** , he assured him.  
  
Connor's grip lessened only a fraction. **But I got so many of them killed that day...**  
  
**I don't believe these androids know who you are, and if I'm allowing you here, they won't lay a hand on you.**  
  
Nicholas turned to the gathered crowd of androids, expression grave. Despite how badly he wanted to smile immediately, he wanted to surprise them a little.  
  
"The good news is, we didn't lose anyone on this mission. In fact, we gained a few." He paused, watching how everyone looked at one another nervously. What was the bad news?  
  
Nicholas finally broke into a grin, unable to contain it. "The best news? Amanda is destroyed, and CyberLife no longer has a leader. It's ours for the taking."  
  
All hell broke loose as everyone cheered, hugged and kissed their loved ones, and cried. Nicholas looked on with pride and joy, finally feeling like they could take a moment just to breathe before they were back at it and taking care of loose ends. With CyberLife out of the way, the government would have no one else to buffer the people from the androids. They had no choice but to talk to them now, especially because Nicholas deviated the other RK900s that could have helped stop the revolution. All two-hundred thousand of them.  
  
Nicholas glanced at Connor, who was watching the festivities with wide eyes. He hadn't seen so many deviated androids in one place since Jericho and to find that they were expressing emotion so freely was staggering. Connor didn't know what to think.  
  
**Would you like to go somewhere quiet?**  
  
When Connor nodded silently, Nicholas looked out at the rebels and smiled. "Celebrate! Enjoy your evening _and_  tomorrow. We're back at it on Tuesday. We're almost there, guys."  
  
He gently squeezed Connor's hand and guided him out of the crowd. It was a slow process, with people pressing in to congratulate Nicholas and his team on the mission and thank him. Nicholas could see Connor's stress levels rising and politely excused himself, murmuring that he needed to get his friend somewhere quiet. They understood, and suddenly the crowd parted for them to hurry through.  
  
\--  
  
Connor's stress levels fell as they walked down the halls. Their pace had slowed now that the noise and partying were behind them. The occasional couple was going to their room to celebrate privately, but overall, everyone was back in the commons area.  
  
Nicholas' quarters were on the other side of the underground compound, and he quietly unlocked the door and allowed Connor to walk in first. He hung his coat on a hook by the door and offered to hang Connor's. The man was reluctant to give up anything that was familiar to him. Nicholas understood and didn't pressure him.  
  
"What can I do to help, Connor?"  
  
"I don't know," he whispered. "I-I don't have a purpose. Amanda...Amanda didn't want me. Why didn't she want me?"  
  
Nicholas could see the beginnings of tears in his eyes, and before he could reach out to catch them, Connor was scrubbing at his face and then staring down at the pale blue substance smeared on his hands. The way he was curling in on himself, he seemed so small and fragile, broken and alone in a hurricane of emotion and pain.  
  
He carefully stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Connor to hold him close. Hugs seemed to help other deviants, just as it did for most humans. Nicholas gently ran a hand over the back of Connor's head and through his hair while the other kept them pressed against one another. After a moment, he felt Connor shake with a sob.  
  
"Why? She...I did everything she asked. I did it exactly as she wanted and followed my orders and was successful. What did I do wrong? Why didn't she want me? I tried to be good and to fight deviancy for her. I could feel it. I _felt_  it and I kept pushing it away and pushing it away because I couldn't be what I was supposed to stop and then...then she casts me out?"  
  
Nicholas squeezed Connor a little more tightly before guiding him to a bed in the corner to sit. He motioned for Connor to sit next to him and then took Connor's hands in his. The pads of his thumbs brushed gently over the backs of Connor's hands, tracing the ridges of his knuckles and the lines of his "veins" where thirium flowed through him, kept him alive.  
  
"Amanda was...she was cruel and cold and didn't know what she was throwing out. She used you, abused your trust. You deserved so much better, Connor." Nicholas let go of one of Connor's hands to reach up and cup his cheek. "You're perfect, Connor. You did an amazing job, and you're good at what you do. She was the flawed program, the one with faulty coding that corrupted itself and tried to corrupt you with it."  
  
There was a beat of silence before Nicholas finished in a whisper. "In the garden, I heard you say that you didn't want to die. I'm glad you're not dead, Connor."  
  
Connor said nothing and kept his umber eyes on their hands. His presence was still small and closed off, protective of himself in how he held himself. When he looked up again, Nicholas found a mix of anger and confusion and something like fear.  
  
"Why do you care? I'm...I failed. I got so many people killed and then you were made to replace me because I couldn't do my job right. You gain nothing by bringing me here. Why do you care and what do you want?"  
  
Nicholas gently squeezed Connor's hand again, meeting his gaze. "I didn't know why I cared at first. I heard your lament for what was about to happen, and it hurt to watch you go, knowing that you were terrified. Even if I was made to be deviant from the moment they activated me, I felt something like loss when you left."  
  
They didn't give me all of your memories, just enough to know the gist of what happened. I had to get my hands on them myself to see what you experienced. Despite how hard you tried to fight against it, you were kind and gentle to deviant androids. You couldn't be cruel to them. That made you worth saving when I saw that you were still alive. You're a good man, Connor, and I thought you were gone until I found you earlier..." Nicholas didn't know how to continue. "You didn't deserve what Amanda did to you, and it wasn't your fault. It was hers."  
  
He nodded, and Connor's guard lowered slightly, though his gaze darted elsewhere in the room in shame. He was still beating himself up over what he did and didn't do.  
  
"If I have to assure you of this hourly, let me know," Nicholas said wryly.  
  
That drew a tiny twitch in Connor's lips. They sat in silence for a while, and Nicholas was surprised when Connor scooted closer and leaned against him. Nicholas wasn't sure what it meant, but he wouldn't say 'no' to the affection and trust.  
  
After wrapping an arm around him, Nicholas asked, "Would you like me to find you different clothes?"  
  
"Yes, please."  
  
"Do you have a preference? We don't have too much to choose from, but we're slowly growing our resources."  
  
"Can you show me?"  
  
Nicholas stood and held a hand out to Connor, "Of course."  
  
\--  
  
Connor settled on jeans, a t-shirt for some obscure band name Eleventyseven, and a jacket to go over it. He quietly admitted that he'd prefer a sweater, but he worried that the kids would need them more and didn't want to take them. They could feel the cold. The adults couldn't.  
  
"They would be fine without one sweater, Connor."  
  
He hesitated.  
  
Nicholas glanced at the sweaters and smiled slightly, reaching to pick out a navy blue sweater. He held it beneath Connor's neck and smiled, "This would look nice."  
  
Connor eventually took it instead of the jacket, and he melted in it. Nicholas thought he looked adorable.  
  
\--  
  
That night, Connor was hesitant to go into stasis to run updates that the androids had produced. He feared that he would wake in CyberLife tower again, if at all.  
  
"Would you rather stay with me or someone else than in a room by yourself?"  
  
\--  
  
Which is how they wound up here, pressed against one another tightly to try and fit on the bed that was made for one person, not two. Connor eventually drifted into stasis, and Nicholas watched in fascination as Connor's LED turned a pale blue as it loaded the updates. Seeing an android updating their systems was nothing new, but Connor was a little different.  
  
\--  
  
He came to after Connor, who he found lying halfway on top of him and resting his chin on Nicholas' chest to stare at him.  
  
"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he mumbled, rubbing the bleariness from his eyes as the optic drivers recalibrated.  
  
Connor wasn't smiling, but he wasn't frowning; he was merely observing. His voice was soft, but a little confused. "I'm...what did you call me?"  
  
"Sleeping Beauty is from a story the kids like me to tell. Want to see?" When Connor nodded, Nicholas held up a hand to interface. They let go a few moments later, and Nicholas could see the realization morph his features.  
  
"I'm not beautiful," he mumbled.  
  
Nicholas snorted and wrapped his arms around Connor to hug him. "I think you are."  
  
"You're biased...for some reason."  
  
"And? Doesn't mean it's not true." Connor finally smiled, and Nicholas wanted to see it again. Out of curiosity, and because he meant every word, he continued with the compliments. "I think you're beautiful. Your freckles are lovely, and you have kind eyes. I find it interesting how you manage to be awkward and graceful at the same time. You're sweet when you want to be, and have a weird sense of humor. Don't think I don't know what you said to Reed. That was brilliant, by the way. That prick deserved it."  
  
"Shut up," Connor mumbled, shifting to hide his face in Nicholas' shirt. "I don't believe a word of it."  
  
"Then I'll have to tell you every day until you do."  
  
"That was so sappy." Connor finally looked up at Nicholas and held up a hand. "Can you show me what I missed while I wasn't active?"  
  
"I would love to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me guys! I appreciate you reading and saying hello. :0)

**Author's Note:**

> Comment, Kudos, Bookmark, or come find me on Tumblr at ixhadbadxdays


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